#I go insane every time hear this lyric. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headkiss · 11 months

Text

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

3K notes · View notes

digital-domain · 2 months

Text

Spring Cleaning

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.2k

In which Alastor goes through your closet, and offers a tasteful replacement for the unsavory things he’s destroyed

Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, Alastor’s outfit-changing magic fuckery, mention of lingerie, slight suggestiveness

A/N: I’d like to thank Goodwill for providing the clothing item that inspired this fic

There’s someone in your room, and you know exactly who it is, because - well, it’s not like it’s a rare occurrence. It doesn’t happen every time, but often enough that you’ve gotten used to seeing Alastor when you open the door, pacing along your bedroom floor, casually perusing your belongings, or sitting at your desk chair like he’s been waiting for you all day. It’s been happening for so long, now, that you don’t remember exactly when it started. And you certainly don’t know why. You tried asking, once or twice, but you learned quickly that he has a shocking ability to dance around questions that he doesn’t want to answer. All you really know is that he’s taken an interest in you, and that it’s not likely to disappear anytime soon.

Some specific visits do stick out in your memory. On one particularly horrendous occasion, he’d stood directly beside the door when you’d swung it open, hiding himself from view, only for his presence to be revealed when you’d turned to shut it behind you. His head had been tilted to a truly bizarre angle, but he’d straightened himself out while you were still reeling from the shock.

No need to be frightened, my dear. Just a bit of fun…

You got the feeling that the look on your face was exactly the entertainment he was looking for.

Today isn’t like that, thankfully. It’s usually not. You get the impression that he doesn’t want to scare you away (as if you could run away, even if you wanted to), and that that particular visit was a rare sort of indulgence. Your door is already cracked open, and you hear him long before you see him. He’s humming something, but like most of the songs he treasures, it’s far too old for you to recognize.

Not as if he accepts that as an excuse. You’ve started learning some of the titles, just to appease him. And the lyrics. And reading the books that he’s given you, and listening to his odd bits of old-fashioned advice, and accepting his various other gifts. The whiskey was nice, although of course he insisted upon drinking with you, and cut you off at one glass. Apparently, it would have been improper to indulge any further in mixed company. The coffee was better - at least he let you drink that by yourself.

When you swing the door open, he’s half-turned away from you, and doesn’t so much as look in your direction. But what you can see of his broadening smile makes it clear that he’s heard you enter. “Hello, my dear,” he murmurs. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

This is another thing you’ve gotten used to: being made to feel like you’re the guest, in your own bedroom. It drives you insane, but of course, you’ve never addressed it. And you’ve certainly never tried to drive him out before he was ready to leave. This little arrangement you have - truly, you’re not sure what to call it - can be unpleasant, at times, but it’s not unbearable. He never comes late at night, and never shows up when you have company (although how he always seems to know whether you have company, you’re not sure). He doesn’t seem to want anything more than your attention.

It’s acceptable. Tolerable. And if you ever push back, you’re not sure what will happen, so you think it’s better to just leave things as they are. To let him come and go through your life as he pleases.

You’re coming closer than ever to saying something now, though, because this time he’s not just sitting at your desk, or standing idly somewhere in your room. He’s got your closet door open - and he’s rifling through the contents. Clearly, he’s been doing this for some time, because a large portion of your clothes are already lying in a heap on the floor behind him. As you watch, he tears another shirt off its hanger. A black camisole that you’d bought because it reminded you of something you’d worn often in life. A “going out top,” as your old friends had called it. He looks down with something like disgust, and drops it over his shoulder, where it flutters to the top of the pile.

“ Alastor…” You try to keep your tone even. Merely curious, instead of indignant. “What are you doing?” A bit of your anger slips through. It would be stupid to even hope that he didn’t notice.

“No need to be so hostile.” He slips another shirt from your closet and holds it up with both hands. “I’m doing you a favor.” He tugs on the sloped neckline of the delicate blouse in his hands, and a rip appears down the middle. “My mistake, dear.”

Arguing, you think, would be a bad idea. But you really do need him to stop. “I liked that one.”

“ Hmm…well! I didn’t. I’m afraid it was a bit modern for my tastes.” He shakes his head, and turns around, dropping the shirt into the mess of other garments on the floor. He’s made it through a good chunk of your wardrobe - several pairs of pants and jeans, as well as a few accessories you’d grown fond of, are visible within the heap. “I mean no offense, of course. I only wish to help.”

You certainly do take offense, but there’s no point in addressing that directly. “They’re my clothes,” you say instead, very aware that you sound like an idiot.

“Not anymore.” With a flourish of his hand, the pile disappears, leaving the floor bare. As well as your closet…as you carefully approach, you see that there’s almost nothing left inside. “You’ll thank me before long.”

It’s getting very hard to contain yourself now. “I bought those.”

“And I will be happy to provide some more… suitable replacements.” His image flickers in front of you - a moment later, he reappears by your side. It’s not the first time this has happened, either, but it makes you shudder every time. “To be entirely honest…” An odd twist of his neck brings his face directly in front of yours, nose nearly brushing your own. “I should have done this long ago.” He takes you by the shoulder, and guides you across the room to your dresser. “I’m nearly done already. Only a few drawers left to go.”

You stare up at him, hardening your gaze. Doing your best to sound confident, and not terrified of speaking up. “I want them back.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. What’s done is done.” He turns, and reaches for the handle of a drawer. The small one, in the top corner.

Oh. Your stomach knots as you realize which drawer, exactly, he’s about to open. You can’t, under any circumstances, let him see what’s in there. But your protest is so frantic that it’s barely comprehensible. “That one - don’t… ”

He laughs shortly, as if you’ve said something only mildly amusing. “You’re getting hostile again, my dear. You know I don’t appreciate that.”

In a panic, you blurt out the question that rises to the top of your head. It will distract him for a moment, if nothing else. “Why are you doing this?”

You realize immediately that this was a mistake. Questioning him is always a mistake.

But then again - you would like to know.

He pauses, the corner of his grin twitching upward. Eyes narrowing as his head swivels in your direction. “I’ve taken a liking to you, my dear.” He certainly doesn’t sound as if he likes you at the moment. His voice drips with condescension. “So when you do things, or have things, that I don’t like, I find it rather jarring.” He takes a deep breath. After he exhales, his eyes flash, and he continues in his usual lighthearted tone. “Taking those things away is quite a comfort to me.”

His smile seems a touch more genuine now. Somehow, that makes it more unsettling. So much so that you freeze up for just a second too long.

“Back to business, then.” He lashes out a hand, and yanks the drawer open.

As soon as he peers inside, he goes rigid. You stiffen, as well, but certainly not for the same reason. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the sharp static suddenly buzzing in your ears. “I told you…”

“No, you didn’t .” He dips a single finger into the drawer, and pulls out the garment on top by its strap, dangling it in midair and examining it. It’s black, like the shirt you’d walked in on him tossing earlier - but it’s certainly not designed for going out. Or for anywhere besides your bedroom. He stares at it for some time, until his silence becomes too much to bear.

“You shouldn’t have”-

“My dear.” He laughs softly, more to himself than to you. “I’d really prefer you not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, so fake that it’s painful to your ears, its conceit betrayed by the telltale twitch in his eye. “Now. Do tell me. What could have possessed you, to spend your hard-earned money on something like this ?” He tilts his head, and stares, clearly waiting for a response.

This question has no good answer, but some are worse than others, so you choose your words carefully. “It…I like how it looks?”

“Hm.” If he wasn’t grinning, as always, you’re sure he’d be grimacing instead. “I can’t say I understand.” He sets it down in the drawer for a moment, and carefully tugs off his glove. “Nor do I wish to.”

You watch in a mixture of mortification and horror as he takes hold of your lingerie once again, and snags his nails across the fabric, easily rending it to pieces. He drops the torn fabric carelessly to the floor, kicks it under your dresser, and pointedly wipes his hand on his sleeve before replacing his glove.

“Ah, well. No need to say anything more about it now.” His eyes trail to the remaining contents of the drawer. “I do hope that you’re not quite as fond of the rest.” He drops his hand over the pile, and a moment later, a soft green flame envelops it. For a moment, you panic, sure that your entire dresser is about to burn, but the flame disappears with the last of your lingerie, leaving not so much as a pile of ashes behind.

You peer into the empty drawer, mouth ajar. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” You’re probably getting into risky territory, but this mixture of embarrassment and irritation is becoming too much to bear.

“Hm?” His eyes are gleaming. There’s something dangerous there, you think, something that you have to tread carefully around. “You didn’t get so worked up over the rest of your closet. Is this different to you?”

“You said you’d replace the rest,” you mutter, judging it to be the safest possible answer. The least likely to cause further embarrassment. “I doubt you’re going to make the same offer with…those.”

“Oh? Who says?” His eyes gleam, in that way they do when he gets an idea that no one around him is going to enjoy. “I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on it…but those things clearly meant a lot to you. And I enjoy your company far too much to let something so small come between us.”

You think that you’d certainly like something to come between you and him. A wall, perhaps. Or a large metal gate.

“So! If it’s a replacement you want, a replacement you shall have.” He sharply closes the drawer, and kicks at a strip of shredded black fabric that still protrudes from beneath your dresser. “It should be something that can be worn in bed, I suppose. But I prefer to interpret that in a more traditional sense. Something to be worn to sleep.” His head tilts dramatically, and somewhere far above your head, you think you hear a few notes of a slow, lilting song, piped in from many decades ago. “And I believe I have just the thing.” That intractable smile pulls back, just a fraction. “Let’s see what it looks like on you, shall we?”

You open your mouth to protest. But of course, you don’t manage to get a word out before he flicks his hand in your direction.

When you look down, your previous outfit is gone. And in its place…well. Like Alastor said, there’s nothing lurid about it. It’s a slip of sorts, made of thin, silky off-white fabric that falls almost to your knees. Delicate enough that you wouldn’t wear it outside, but modest enough that you don’t feel entirely exposed. It’s something to be worn to bed, indeed. But not by you. There’s nothing you about it. The fabric itself appears brand new, but like all the things Alastor seems to appreciate most, the design clearly comes from long before your time.

You find, suddenly, that you don’t know how to hold yourself. How to act. Your arms hang awkwardly at your sides, feeling heavy as your fingertips skim the silk that surround your thighs.

You realize, after the moment of disorientation had passed, that Alastor is not acting like himself, either. He’s quiet. You were expecting mockery, some ridiculous comment that would make you melt into the ground - but it appears that the results of your transformation have caught him off guard.

There’s a creak on the floorboards to your right. A faint sigh. “I must say, my dear…” Alastor’s voice is softer than you expected, and almost devoid of the static filter that usually coats his words. “It suits you better than I could have imagined.”

You think that you’d prefer taunting to whatever this is.

“I’d go so far as to say you look quite lovely.”

You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to see his face just yet, and examine the finer details of the garment he’s cast upon you. It has narrow straps, and lace at the neckline, which is high enough to give nothing away. The hem is also lacy, and the cut is straight, not so much defining your curves as endeavoring to erase them as much as possible. Objectively speaking, it is quite pretty. But you’re left with the impression that you’ve strode into someone else’s closet, and departed wearing their clothes.

“Don’t you agree?”

Slowly, hesitantly, you look up. Alastor’s eyes are fixed on you, shining a brighter red than you’ve ever seen. There’s nothing vulgar about the way he’s staring - but he’s not merely amused, either. Instead, he’s looking at you with rapt fascination, in much the way that one would contemplate a particularly exquisite piece of art in a gallery.

“I’m…not sure.” You instinctively cross your arms, almost wishing that you saw a more crude impulse behind his eyes. That, at least, would be easier to understand. Instead, it’s something like appreciation - or pride. More of the latter. If you were merely a piece of art, you’d imagine that this would be how your creator would look at you, upon seeing you on display for the first time.

“No need to hide.” He reaches forward, and touches you lightly on the wrist. It’s enough to send both of your arms falling to your sides. “You couldn’t even if you tried.”

His smile, again, seems entirely too real. There’s nothing threatening about his tone. It’s even, charming. And yet…

He slips behind you, and his hand moves to your waist - a test, you think, to see if you’ll slap it away. “But I don’t think you’re planning on trying, are you?”

“No.” You’re surprised by how quickly the word comes out of your mouth, how breathless. It was an odd question, one that hinted at more than the subject in front of it, and seemed to demand an answer.

His other hand joins the first on your waist, and he turns you around, so quickly that you almost stumble, his palms dancing lightly over your barely covered skin. When you’re facing him, one hand slides up, curling around your jaw and holding tight, keeping your gaze turned up towards his face. And it is a long way up - it’s almost embarrassing how small you are compared to him. He stares down, staying silent for much longer than you’re used to, his breathing just a touch heavier than usual.

His fingers tighten over the silk at your waist, pressing into your skin, a small twitch of his hand pulling the fabric very slightly upwards. It barely moves the hem at all - less than an inch - but somehow leaves you feeling infinitely more exposed. You almost flinch away, but after just a moment, he lets go, all at once. In fact, he practically jerks his hands back, as if he’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, and doesn’t approve. His smile, all of a sudden, appears incredibly fragile.

“Oh…” He laughs softly - it feels forced. “Forgive me, darling. I truly don’t know what came over me.”

You’re not quite sure, either. And as usual, you neither expect nor want an answer.

He steps to your side, leans slightly over you, both hands clasped behind his back. With what seems like some effort, he forces the usual lighthearted tone back into his voice. “You do want to keep it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You’d prefer not to, you think, if this is the sort of reaction it draws out of him. But you can’t very well get rid of it, if he doesn’t want you to. And, you reassure yourself, just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.

“Good.” Again, overhead - but not so far overhead as last time - that lilting old melody falls into your ears. You have the odd impulse to cover them, but you force yourself to keep your hands at your sides. “It is getting late…I think you might as well keep it on, and get yourself all ready for bed.”

You’d like to push back. But all you can manage is a mute nod.

“Lovely.” He starts to raise his hand, as if to reach out and touch you again, but seems to think better of it. The hand falls, and disappears behind his back once more. “Sleep well, my dear.” Quickly, he turns on his heel, only calling out one final line before slipping out through your door. “You’ll see me again soon.”

You have no doubt that you will.

Alone in your room, you slowly approach the mirror that stands in the corner. Your reflection does not change your initial impression. You don’t look like yourself. You don’t like it. And it’s not like he’ll know if you take it off, change into something more comfortable…

Your eyes fall upon your nearly empty closet, and you remember that you don’t have anything more comfortable. Not anymore.

This is alright, you try to tell yourself. It’s just a piece of clothing.

Just a piece of clothing that you can’t imagine wearing for any other reason, or for anyone else.

Your eyes fall upon the empty drawer in the top corner of your dresser, and trail over to your bed. Quickly, you drop your gaze to the floor. You realize, with a sigh, that it will be a long time before you have any company besides him in this room. In fact, it’s possible that you’ll never open your door for anyone again.

At the moment, doing so would feel far too much like allowing a guest into someone else’s home.

#alastor x reader #yandere alastor #tw yandere #tw power imbalance

727 notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 6 months

Text

bite the hand | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem musician!reader [face claim: clairo + clairo, boygenius and taylor swift music]

having fans are great, but sometimes it goes to far and you have to bite the hands that feed you

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 913,551 others

tagged: beabadoobee

yourusername: howdy ladies, gentlemen and all that's in between, it's single release day. i had so much fun on this track with bea and getting to pour all of my love for maxy onto such a cute melody... hope you all enjoy my loves x

view all comments

user1: YES THANK YOU MOM THIS IS JUST WHAT I NEEDED TODAY

landonorris: how many letters in devoured?

yourusername: ATE 💅

landonorris: ate and left NO crumbs

maxverstappen1: why oh why did i ever introduce you two

yourusername: because you love us both?

maxverstappen1: i sure love you, jury is out on lando

landonorris: boooooooooo

user2: ugh if y/n had to date an f1 driver why couldn't she go for one of the hot ones like lando or charles?

user3: for real like bro he just drags her down

user4: you can't be serious? he's a professional athlete at the top of his sport and by what they show us a massive softy who loves y/n? why would we want anything else for her?

liked by yourusername

user5: y/n will NOT stand for any max bashing idk why you guys try it every time

maxverstappen1: so unbelievably talented and the artist of her generation

yourusername: maybe it's because i have a top notch muse ?

maxverstappen1: NO NO IT'S ALL YOU YOU ARE THE ARTIST I AM JUST LUCKY TO BE IN YOUR VICINITY

yourusername: i am the lucky one baby

danielricciardo: leave your cute shit offline i already have to hear it all of the time let me be on instagram

yourusername: nope love my boyfriend too much

maxverstappen1: nope love my girlfriend too much

user6: they're so insufferable i love them

user7: this song bangs so much more when you pretend it's not about ... him

user8: bro is acting like max verstappen ran over his puppy

user7: sorry i don't want a GREAT artist and BEAUTIFUL woman being dragged down by THAT

user9: you are insane, you do not know y/n, you enjoy her music, that doesn't give you the right to have power over things in her personal life

user10: you people are why this fanbase has a bad name and before long y/n will get fed up too

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 829,043 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: the off weekend spent right

view all comments

user13: i need a man so obsessed with me that all he does is post my face

user14: crazy that all this guy does is wax lyrical about how much he loves her and she's like never at his races ... interesting

user15: and her weirdly entitled fanbase say he doesn't deserve her when she clearly doesn't support him as much as he supports her

yourusername: i love you and our soft little weekends, i wanna do it all the time :(

maxverstappen1: gosh our day jobs are really quite unconventional i guess we should just retire to a remote island to live on a small farm?

yourusername: you said it not me i just wanna be anywhere with you

maxverstappen1: i love you <3

user16: RETIRE TO A REMOTE ISLAND? SOMEONE TELL THIS RAT THAT IF HE IS THE REASON WE DON'T GET MUSIC WE WILL RIDE AT DAWN

user17: babe have you ever thought that maybe the reason he said that he wants to retire away from everyone because you people stick your noses in all the time

danielricciardo: @yourusername a soft weekend you say? how many hours did max spend on the sim?

yourusername: a solid ten but he even let me have a go

danielricciardo: oh wow that man really is in love

maxverstappen1: i think she'd rival a couple of you with some practice, i'm working on getting her to join redline

user18: ugh this is so annoying... preaching like you like spending time with your girlfriend and then spend it all playing a video game and letting her have one go?

user19: the sim is something f1 drivers use to train? if anything max probably shouldn't have let y/n have a go she could've accidentally changed the set up or other things

user20: i'm seeing charles and lewis training this off weekend and he just lies in bed with this girl? he really needs to ditch her to stay at the top

user21: literally two comments up is them talking about him training on the sim the jealousy is insane from both fans at this point

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 893,442 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: happy to take home another win in mexico, i love this track and am forever thankful to this team and my loved ones.

view all comments

user25: holy shit idk what f1 can do but the paddock looked insane today there's no way that is safe for the drivers and personnel.

user26: there's so many videos of people rushing max and although some of them look like max fans who are just excited but there were a lot of very rude rival fans trying to get too close for comfort

yourusername: forever proud of you !! you're like jimmy and sassy with zoomies on crack <3

maxverstappen1: that is the highest of the high compliment thank you my love

yourusername: champagne is on me girlypops no expense spared for the love of my life

redbullracing: do we all qualify as girlypops ???

yourusername: of course !! don't think i didn't notice the supply of vegan pizza rolls you truly are the lactose intolerant allies of the grid

user27: can she stop spending all her hard earned money on this scrub that just uses her

user28: bro makes millions in a year he doesn't NEED her but that doesn't mean he can't want her? you guys are crazy

user29: some of these fans need to do some serious evaluation, drivers are not zoo animals, they are people and deserve respect and that includes respect to their personal space.

user30: for real like why was brad basically having to act as a body guard for max and y/n

user31: this was such a dangerous event for max and y/n. they're both very famous individuals and should be able to move around the paddock without being in danger.

user32: max joked about getting a body guard for this weekend but i think he should seriously consider it especially is y/n is coming to more races while she's not touring

danielricciardo: it has been brought to my attention that y/n has stated that she will spare no expense, i am making a formal enquiry into whether this will cover my bar tab?

yourusername: i will within reason but only because your bffs with maxy and will drink the fruity lil cocktails with me

danielricciardo: REAL men drink cocktails

maxverstappen1: do NOT disrespect the humble gin and tonic on my post

user33: i'm glad they're in high spirits after the shenanigans in the paddock today and the booing towards max :(

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, maxverstappen1 and 1,442,776 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: there is no full way to articulate my feelings right now. my fans have to respect my personal relationships and my boundaries. i appreciate your support but you have to understand that i am not your personal friend and you do not have the right to my personal life. i also understand that in sport, there are a lot of heightened emotions, but drivers do not owe you their safety. this is something i have felt for a long time since max and i became a public couple and the onslaught of hate came for him. you may say that it comes from a good place, or for my best interests, but the manner in which some 'fans' have expressed their 'worries' is unacceptable. i do not want to bite the hand that feeds me, but there's only so many slaps me and my loved ones can take from the hand.

bite the hand is out on all streaming platforms. please listen closely a re-evaluate your relationships with your favourite artists, thank you.

comments are not available on this post.

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,220,664 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: i love you and i will never let other people tell me when i'm not enough get in my head again. we both appreciate our support and acknowledge that we would be nowhere without it. but our relationships are ours, please respect this.

comments are not available on this post

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,344,229 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: okay sad songs are important but it's now time for me to sing my wee little heart out about how much i love you and how i know we were always made for each other.

i love you maxy, invisible string is all about my muse. out now.

view all comments

user41: IT BANGS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

user42: ffs i guess we're stuck with this man for life now ...

user43: LISTEN TO BITE THE HAND AND BANG YOUR HEAD AGAINST THE WALL AND HEAR THE PINBALLS OF YOUR BRAIN GOING CRAZU

user44: speak your truth sis

maxverstappen1: ISN'T IT JUST SO PRETTY TO THINK THAT ALL ALONG THERE WAS SOME INVISIBLE STRING TYING YOU TO ME

maxverstappen1: so true, you make me believe in soulmates YOU ARE MY SOULMATE I LOVE YOU

yourusername: i love you to the moon and to saturn for real

yourusername: and that thread of gold is made from all of your trophies LET'S GO RAHHHHHHHH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU

maxverstappen1: the gold of that grammy @thegrammys yall heard bags?

user45: the way they're each others wags and completely embrace it

user46: i love that they're still their goofy asses they don't give a shit abou t yall

user47: y/n dropped a heart wrenching track and immediately went ... but hey i'm SUPER happy and that's all you're going to hear

landonorris: so like can y/n remix the dutch anthem so we can actually bop every weekend

yourusername: i kinda wanna marry the king of the netherlands so maybe not

landonorris: you broke up ?????

yourusername: no you dumbass max is the king of the netherlands

maxverstappen1: not factually but i do have a medal from the royal family so same thing

landonorris: why do you guys have to clown on me every time

yourusername: you're like our baby brother it's our duty

maxverstappen1: sorry not sorry

user48: you could never make me hate them they're made for each other

user49: finally bite the hand shamed the crazy bitches into finally shutting the fuck up

note: i love bite the hand i actually fear it might be my fave boygenius song and i recommend it to everyone. i actually did my university dissertation on parasocial relationships with athletes so like i feel like a good couple of sports fans could do with a listen to bite the hand. hope yall enjoyed and had a good weekend !! (chelsea gave me a heart attack but what's new, even though i was too sick to go to the game:()

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 #f1 x you #f1 social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen

2K notes · View notes

fawnforevergone · 9 months

Text

The Ultimate List of Dante References in Hozier's "Unreal Unearth" !!

Hello and welcome to my new-and-updated ultimate compilation of all 'Inferno' references I found in Hozier's new album! If I think of anything else, or if anyone else suggests something, I will be sure to add it, but, for now, enjoy this ridiculously long (you've been warned) list I made!

Since I didn't wanna make a post for every individual song and spam you all, the songs are separated by their respective circles! I hope that organises stuff a bit more :]

Usual disclaimer: I could be wrong about some stuff! I've read 'Inferno' and try to stick to the objective references, but sometimes I let subjective interpretation bleed through. If anyone has any corrections for anything, just lmk!! Okay, cool <3

DESCENT:

"De Selby (Part 1)"

We start the album not in the circles, but instead at the Gates of Hell. One of the main themes of Inferno is darkness, and these first two songs are embodiments of that.

The lyrics mention the idea of this being a "new empty space", suggesting that Hozier is being introduced to the feeling of Inferno through the relationship he's singing about, and, so, we begin the descent.

"The likes of a darkness so deep that God at the start couldn't bear." God is obviously a large theme of Inferno and is, biblically, the creator of light, hence the absence of it in Inferno. In fact, the first three stanzas all reference the heavy darkness of the threshold and its estrangement from God.

The Irish/Gaeilge lyrics roughly translate to: "Although you're bright and light, you arrive to me like night fall. You and I, together. You and I, metamorphized. Although you're bright and light, you arrive to me like night fall. The art of transformation is a dark art." The imagery of light and dark mixing together mimics the idea of walking from the brightness of Earth into the darkness of Inferno.

This entire album appears to be the recounting of a relationship and how it feels like walking through Inferno. Here we see the beginning of this relationship, of Hozier losing himself to the threshold.

"De Selby (Part 2)"

Part one appeared to be the step through the gates, whereas part two seems to be Hozier being enveloped by the threshold. In 'Inferno', Dante says the entrance to Hell is a darkness that no stars could shine in. We hear this shift from Earth to Unearth through the production alone; the weightlessness of part one falling into the heavy grunge of part two.

"Your heart, love, has such darkness, I feel it in the corners of the room." The theme of dark continues, as it will through the entire album, but, this time, Hozier feels it radiating from within his lover rather than the space around them. Though, him saying his lover carries darkness is not an insult. This extra depth to his lover is something more to know, something more to love. This idea actually differs from Dante, who sees the darkness as deceitful.

"I want to be so far from sight and mind." Inferno is a lawless place. He would be far from sight due to the darkness, and far from mind due to the insanity that persists within the circles.

"Let all time slow, let all light go." This lyric shows me that he has been submerged in the threshold. Again, the lack of light, but also the slowing of time. Punishment after death is eternal, something that time has no grasp on. Hozier is willing to let these aspects take a hold of him.

"I'd still know you not being shown you, I'd only need the workin' of my hands." Christianity is a heavy theme of Inferno, and this lyric plays on the proverb 'Idle hands are the devil's workshop', a proverb Hozier also hinted at in his song "No Plan" (from 'Wasteland, Baby!') - "My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand."

Now, though, Hozier's hands aren't idle, instead the opposite, his hands are working as God intended. Drawing us back to that idea we were given at the end of part one, we get the feeling that Hozier is bringing something light/Godly to Inferno, and he and his lover are fusing the ideas of Heaven/Earth and Hell.

FIRST (LIMBO):

"First Time"

We now enter circle number one, 'Limbo'. Limbo is an uneventful circle for those not worthy of punishment but also not fit for Heaven. It is mainly for those who do not believe in God, the unbaptised.

Firstly, to get to circles, Dante and his guide, Virgil, must be chaperoned by the Greek Psychopomp Charon down the river Acheron, and we see that in Hozier's first couple stanzas.

"And the soul - if that's what you'd call it, uneasy ally of the body - felt nameless as a river, undiscovered underground." This appears to be Hozier mentioning the river Acheron, one of the five rivers of the Underworld that surround Hades, and, in 'Inferno', are used to transport the souls of the dead to their respective circles.

"The first time that you kissed me, I drank dry the river Lethe." The river Lethe is another one of the five rivers, and is one that causes anyone who drinks from it to forget everything they know. Hozier is simply saying that kissing this person wiped his mind clean, similar to the end of "De Selby (Part 1)" where he mentions partaking in a transformation.

"Some part of me died / Some part of me came alive the first time that you called me 'Baby'." Relating to the previous quote, souls that drink from the river Lethe usually do so before being reincarnated, so they forget their past life. Hozier seems to experiment with the idea of being reborn by his partner's love for him - an idea prevalent throughout his entire discography.

"To share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering, but fighting off - like all creation - the absence of itself." This lyric tells us that we should not ignore the privilege of living just out of the fear of dying. This lyric is reminiscent of "All Things End" and the circle of Heresy. Since Limbo is home to those who don't believe in God, the theme of Heresy is a very fitting one.

SECOND (LUST):

"When I was young, I used to guess 'Are there limits to any emptiness?'" The punishment for those in Limbo is to exist eternally with the curse of a hollow, empty feeling meant to represent the lack of God in their lives. This punishment seems referenced in this lyric.

[ i ended up thinking about this song more so if you want even more "first time" content, here ya go: "first time dante references." ]

"Francesca"

Into circle number two, 'Lust', we have the story of Francesca Da Rimini, a woman Dante spoke to during his visit to circle two. Francesca fell in love with her husband's brother, Paolo, and when her husband discovered the affair he murdered them both.

Hozier seems to be singing from the perspective of Francesca/Paolo but throughout the album we see Hozier liken his lover to aspects of Inferno - darkness in "De Selby (Part 2)" or Lucifer in "Unknown / Nth" - so the story of Francesca and Paolo is fitting as another metaphor here.

"Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me?" Even in Hell, Paolo and Francesca physically cling onto another. They do not let their death affect their love.

"My life was a storm since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane?" The punishment in Lust is an eternal storm meant to replicate the throws of passionate love - a storm also depicted in the production of the end of this song. Hozier/Francesca/Paolo says that it's impossible for them to care about this punishment when life was already as treacherous as it was.

The whole chorus emphasises the imagery of Francesca and Paolo not being able to let go of each other.

"When the heart would cease, ours never knew peace. What good what it be on the far side of things?" Francesca and Paolo lived their love secretly and anxiously, so what good would peace be in the afterlife when they've already become accustomed to difficulty?

"Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I." In the opening songs of the album, Hozier describes his lover as darkness, akin to something God cannot bear. Due to the depth of his lover, the mix of light and dark they've made, he believes Heaven would crumble beneath the weight of their relationship. That something as corrupt as Inferno is the only place suitable for them to live.

"I, Carrion (Icarian)"

Still in circle two, Hozier plays on Dante's own metaphor. In Canto 17, Dante refers to his own dread of descending Inferno to the same dread that the 'ill-fated Icarus' must've felt on his fall from the sky.

Hozier twists this, instead comparing his love to the hope Icarus must've felt as he flew towards the sun. He said, during a live show, this song is based on the idea hat Icarus never realised he fell, and woke up dead, too clouded by joy to realise what had happened.

"If the wind turns, if i hit a squall, allow the ground to find its brutal way to me." Again, we mention the storm of circle two. Lust is also said to have treacherous terrain - sharp rocks and jagged stone - that seems to be hinted at in the second half of this lyric.

"While you're as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath." This imagery seems reminiscent of the Greek Titan, Atlas, who holds up the Earth on his back. Dante talks about seeing Titans and Biblical Giants at the transition point of circle eight to circle nine, 'Fraud' to 'Treachery', which makes this lyric a sad hint to where Hozier will end up finding his lover; Taking the place of Lucifer in the deepest part of Inferno.

THIRD (GLUTTONY):

"Eat Your Young"

We enter the third circle of Inferno, 'Gluttony'. There are no specific references to Inferno, but the concept of gluttony is apparent. Hozier does what he frequently does throughout this album; He refuses to see the sin as "right or wrong" as Dante so stubbornly implies.

Hozier often divulges in a grey area, a spectrum or sale of severity, when it comes to the sin. Hozier's perspective seems more nuanced than Dante's, seeing sin as layered rather than objectively bad. In this specific song, he displays the different sources of hunger in humans, and where the line should be drawn.

"I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to something, let me wrap my teeth around the world." We start, and reference back to in verse two, a sexual hunger, a harmless passion between two people. This is an innocent side of the sin, not deserving of the punishment of Lust which is to be ripped apart by Cerberus (the three-headed dog from Greek mythology) for all eternity.

However, Hozier moves onto the hunger of politics.

"Pull up the ladder when the flood comes." The government refusing to help the people when the sea levels rise.

"Throw enough rope until the legs have swung." When you don't have a ladder, you use a rope. This lyric plays on the notion of when governments give the impression they are helping, but are only making things worse - a take on the saying 'Give someone enough rope and they'll hang themselves', since what else are they meant to do with it?

"Skinnin' the children for a war drum, puttin' food on the table selling bombs and guns." The hunger for power manifests in war.

"It's quicker and easier to eat your young." Here, Hozier uses the common saying in a more literal sense, saying that if these politicians are hungry enough to destroy the world, they may as well physically eat their young, since it'll have the same effect.

FOURTH (GREED):

"Damage Gets Done"

This song takes place in circle four, 'Greed'! The title of the song alone is already very meaningful. In circle four, the main punishment is that the inhabitants are split into two groups and are forever forced to charged into each other and fight. Dante describes them are being so injured and damaged that they have become 'unrecognisable'.

The song is about greed within the changing of the world. It's about growing up and losing the naivety and innocence you once had, no longer able to ignore the burden of politics and money. Hozier and Brandi sing about the excitement of being young and in love, but, with the rise of inflation, it's hard to exist like that anymore - You need greed to survive.

"Wish I had known it was just our turn being blamed for a world we had no power in." This seems to be a reference to two things. One, the idea that governments blame the people for their own poverty, and Two, the idea of arriving in circle four by no fault of your own. It's not their fault they wanted more money with the world being how it is, but, nevertheless, they're being punished for it.

"I haven't felt it since then. I don't know when the feeling ended, but I know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done." They talk about the enjoyment of the love they're singing about fading, and how they miss that, but they know that, again, this is not their fault. They know they didn't change, the world did, and they won't take responsibility for their 'sin' when all they did was adapt.

As aforementioned, the inhabitants of the fourth circle suffer extreme injuries, so Hozier saying "I know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done" is him saying "I know that we are not at fault for being served the punishment of Greed."

FIFTH (WRATH / ANGER):

"Who We Are"

We enter the fifth circle, 'Wrath', where the inhabitants spend their time fighting to stay at the surface of the river Styx, another one of the five rivers of the underworld.

"Falling from you drop by drop." / "To hold me like water." These lyrics obviously give the idea of water, representing the river Styx.

"Or, Christ, hold me like a knife." This lyric comes in quite loudly, Hozier's voice strengthening with it. The subtle blasphemy of "Christ" and the violent imagery of "knife" comes across as a sort of anger. Being held "like a knife" is representative of how those is Wrath must feel - like they are something particularly dangerous, but still desperate to be held.

"We're born at night, so much of our lives is just carving through the dark to get so far." Again, this theme of darkness that is so frequently displayed in Inferno is mentioned again. After this song comes "Son Of Nyx", which Hozier said was the transition into the darker half of the album, and Nyx is the Goddess of the Night. Being "born at night" would make Hozier the son of the night, the son of Nyx. This gives the impression that, if the album is following on chronologically, this is the point where the relationship portrayed in the album begins to fray as Hozier starts to be consumed by the darkness.

"And the hardest part is who we are." Those in the circle of Wrath possess a 'savage self-frustration' that Hozier seems to represent throughout this whole song - A fierce annoyance with the way he and his lover let things go: "We sacrificed, we gave our time to something undefined", "Chasing someone else's dream", Etc.

SIXTH (HERESY):

"Son Of Nyx"

We have no lyrics for this song (though you can hear him faintly saying some things, one of which is him saying "who we are...") but we know it takes place in circle six, 'Heresy'. Heresy is a belief or opinion that is contradictory to religious doctrine, especially Christianity. As aforementioned, Hozier said this track is a transition song meant to replicate a descent into the darker half of the album.

Nyx is a Greek Goddess and is often known as the personification of night. She had many children all representing different things but the title would essentially mean 'The Son Of Night', and, as dissected in the previous song, we can see that Hozier sees himself as reborn into the darkness.

Once again, darkness is a large theme of Inferno, but Hozier saying in circle six that he is the Son of Night is particularly meaningful due to the association of light with God. He has been reborn as something that could not be further from God, something that opposes the idea of God, something of a Heretic.

Nyx was feared and respected by all, including Zeus, and, though I believe there is no reference to her in Inferno, she was described as residing in the dark recesses of the Underworld, which is heavily incorporated into Inferno.

"All Things End"

This song does not have many overt references to circle six but definitely incorporates the idea of heresy. As mentioned, heresy is an idea that contradicts (especially, but not always) Christianity. In this song, Hozier talks about the ephemeral nature of all things, particularly romance.

"When people say that something is forever, either way it ends." Whether it be death or a break-up, God doesn't plan for you to be able to spend eternity with your lover.

"Movin' on in time and taking more from everything that ends." Hozier, however, argues that things still have meaning beyond their end. That, even after moving on, we will remember and learn from the things we have lost.

"Just knowin' that everything will end should not change our plans." Throws back to the idea of the second verse of "First Time". If you avoided something just because it was going to end eventually, you would never achieve anything. That's like refusing to finish a movie just because you don't want to get to the credits.

When this concept of ignoring the end comes to death, we ultimately cross the concept of God. There are many rules people follow in religion, avoiding certain things because they are against 'God's Will'. Although this practice can be kept in moderation, it can quickly become self-imprisoning.

Not living your present life out of fear for an unproven afterlife can be limiting, especially if you dictate who you love due to what supernatural punishment may or may not follow. Hozier sings that we should not let God's plan interfere with what we need from life, allowing ourselves to indulge in love even if it will end - ultimately, Heresy.

SEVENTH (VIOLENCE):

"To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe)"

This song places in circle seven, 'Violence'. Violence is split into three subcategories, or 'rings'; Violence against others, violence against self, and violence against God. I believe this song gives an overview of all three.

With this song, we recognise that the title says "To someone..." and Hozier said this song was a gift to someone who was from a geographical warm climate, but there is also a lot of heat in circle seven.

"A joy, hard learned in winter, was the warming of the bed." Throughout this song, Hozier describes himself as cold, and his lover as warm. The idea of warming the bed is a concept Hozier mentioned in his song "Nobody" (From 'Wasteland, Baby!') where he sings that, if he had a choice between the warm bed of his lover or performing on stage, he'd go home to the bed. Since this song comes after "All Things End" (the break-up song), this call back to "Nobody" could be instead referencing a permanent distance, rather than a temporary one (like the temporary distance in "Nobody").

"And, darlin', all my dreaming has only been put to shame." This could have two meanings. One, Hozier waking from a dream about his lover to find them not here. Or, two, Hozier's expectations of his lover falling short as their relationship has finally fallen through. These expectations could be a form of violence against self, the second ring, as he set himself up for heartbreak.

"And I wish that I could say that the river of my arms have found the ocean. I wish I could say the cold lake water of my heart- Christ, it's boilin' over." As mentioned, Hozier is cold, his lover is warm. His wishes he could find something to to fill the loss of his relationship, but he still feels the heat from his lover in every part of him.

"It's boilin' over." References the river of boiling blood in the first ring, violence against others, Hozier could be talking about the way his partner loved him, how that was almost an act of violence with how hard it is to now let go.

"Butchered Tongue"

This song has less references to 'Inferno', and is more of a commentary on the act of violence itself. Hozier sings of places and cultures lost to the violence of man, and he mourns this deeply.

"To say 'Appalacicola' or 'Hushpukena', like 'Gweebara'. A promise softly sung of somewhere else." This grieving for a time when native land wasn't colonised and culture wasn't violently erased is prevalent throughout the song.

In the second verse, he sings very strongly of the brutal acts inflicted upon Irish rebels by the British forces in the Wexford Rebellion of 1789. As we know, Hozier is from Ireland, and he incorporates both the Irish language and history into this album, and recounting such violent acts for this song feeds into the grieving of what has been lost: "Between what is lost forever and what can still be known."

In the context of 'Inferno', it feels as though Hozier is listing the sort of actions that would land someone within the circle of Violence whilst also appreciating the efforts those above ground take to preserve erased culture. Altogether, the song is a very moving commentary on modern violence.

EIGHTH (FRAUD):

"Anything But"

The eighth circle is 'Fraud', split into ten subcategories that are positioned around the circle in trench-like ditches, known as 'Bolgia'.

"I wanna be loud, so loud, I'm talking seismic," follows up with, "I want to be as soft as a single rock in a rain stick." Who he wants to be fluctuates between moderation and severity. He is changing, unreliable, possibly referring to bolgia one, Panders and Seducers. Seducers tend to 'lead astray', as Hozier's unreliable narration does.

The punishment of bolgia one is to be marched backwards and forwards rapidly whilst being whipped, very much evoking the imagery of a stampede: "If I were a stampede, you wouldn't get a kick." This alludes to the fact that if Hozier were sent to hell for the various sins he commits for his lover, he wouldn't resent them for it at all.

"If I was a riptide, I wouldn't take you out." The second bolgia of Fraud is for Flatterers, 'the act of giving excessive compliments, sometimes for romantic courtship'. Obviously, the song is filled with these compliments.

"I hear He touches your hand and then you fly away together. If I had his job, you'd live forever." The imagery of "fly away" gives the idea of ascending, perhaps to Heaven, as hinted at again by the idea of the longevity of living. Bolgia three is for Simoniacs, those who would sell church roles, offices, or sacred things. This seems to fit with Hozier saying that if he had a divine role, he wouldn't follow protocol, he would allow his lover immortality.

Simoniacs were sinners because they were disobeying God's trust, because the selling of divine roles would lead to corruption in the Church. Hozier is using this hyperbolically, saying that if someone were to sell him the role of God, he would most definitely be a corrupt power.

"I'd lower the world in a flood, or better yet I'd cause a drought." In bolgia four we have Sorcerers. Although Dante used this term in a more logical sense for fraudulent sorcerers - false prophets, fortune tellers, those who lied about the plans of God - Hozier uses the term in a supernatural sense. Sorcerers were punished for trying to interrupt God's prerogative, whereas Hozier is blatantly saying he would summon another flood, usurping God's plan overtly.

"I'm talking seismic." The bridge that leads to bolgia seven was collapsed by the great earthquake and, as we know, seismic activity leads to earthquakes.

"Worry the cliff side top as a wave crashing over." There happens to be a cliff near the entrance of circle eight that a large waterfall plunges over.

"Abstract (Psychopomp)"

This song appears to be the crossover point from circle eight to circle nine that I mentioned when discussing "I, Carrion (Icarian)". Before we get to that, the title itself is significant.

A psychopomp is a chaperon of death; Someone like the Grim Reaper, or Charon from "First Time", or Dante's guide through Inferno, Virgil. Here, Hozier is describing the act of hitting an animal with your car as taking on the role of a psychopomp, whilst also relating this idea to the act of letting a relationship die, leading it from life to death.

In the crossover point from eight to nine, Dante and Virgil stand and look at the large well that leads down to circle nine, 'Treachery'. The Titians and Giants burst out of the well, to big to fit, but their feet stand stubbornly in Treachery. I believe that, at this point in the album, Hozier stands here, too. He's visited all eight circles, and has one last place to go before he leaves Inferno, and ultimately his lover, behind. This song is him realising he has to let his relationship end, he has to act as a psychopomp for his love.

"Sometimes it returns like rain that you've slept through." Circle nine, 'Treachery', is a frozen over lake, aka a memory of water, similar to the residue of rain. With viewing this song as the predecessor to "Unknown / Nth", we can take this as a hint of what's to come.

"The Earth from a distance." Since Inferno is arranged in rings (like a circular staircase), Dante could feasibly look up and still see where he started his journey. The same way Hozier could look up and see where his relationship began, "De Selby (Part 1)", The Gates.

"Streetlights in the dark blue." We have the mix of light and dark again, as mentioned in the opening track, referencing back to Hozier and his partner falling in love.

"Darling, there's a part of me I'm afraid will always be trapped within an abstract of my life." Of course, Hozier is talking about the memory of the animal hit with the car here, but the way this relates to circle nine is beautiful. As we'll properly dissect with "Unknown / Nth", sat within the most central point of circle nine, the deepest part of Inferno, is Lucifer, the fallen angel. Lucifer was thrown down to Hell from Heaven, and found himself trapped in Treachery, his body too big to escape. Dante says that the more he struggles, the more stuck he becomes.

That moment he was struck down to hell is a moment he finds himself forever stuck in, just as Hozier is saying here. In the next song, Hozier relates his lover to Lucifer, but these lyrics are a gorgeous mirroring of Lucifer's experience, and another hint at the final circle we will now head to.

NINTH (TREACHERY):

"Unknown / Nth"

Okay, buckle in.

The ninth circle, 'Treachery', is also one split into subcategories, yet Hozier appears to be singing about the centre. The frozen over lake of Treachery gets more frozen the closer you get to the centre. The inhabitants start half-submerged in ice to fully plastered in it. Throughout Inferno, and the deeper we descend, a soft breeze becomes a strong wind, that, as we reach the centre, we find is caused by the violent flapping of Lucifer's wings. Here he sits, stuck and chewing on Judas, another one of God's biggest betrayers.

After "Abstract (Psychopomp)" Hozier is now exploring the final stage of his relationship. The circles of Hell had mirrored the love he once had, and Treachery is where it shall be buried. He also represents his lover as Lucifer, though not maliciously. In interviews, Hozier spoke about the song being about a heavy betrayal he suffered from someone he truly loved, and likening this to God and Lucifer is just heartbreaking.

"You know the distance never made a difference to me." The song is about knowing someone in their entirety, discovering their best and worst parts. Hozier uses Inferno to talk about the tiresome journey of finally knowing someone. He says he would've made the trip all the same, that he would've walked this far for his lover no matter what.

"I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea." This mirrors the previous lyric, but also references specific parts of Inferno. The are many fires in Inferno, particularly in circle seven, 'Violence'. The sea floor lyric reminds me of the lake of Treachery. Though a surface, not a floor, the lake would still be below any seabed, since Inferno is geographically below the Earth.

"Funny how true colours shine in darkness and in secrecy." You guys are probably sick of hearing me say it but... Darkness is a big theme in Dante's Inferno. It is meant to represent the deceiving nature of humans when light is not being shone. Secrecy is a running thread through 'Inferno', too, as Dante finds many people he thought had done no wrong residing there. Hozier is simply saying how (sarcastically) funny it is that he only truly knows his lover in the remains of their relationship; How he only knows them after seeing them in their cruellest form.

"Where you were held frozen like an angel to me." There are many angel lyrics, but this one specifically references the ice of Treachery. The fallen angel is indicative of Hozier's experience: Seeing someone he regarded highly, even heavenly, falling from that pedestal and turning into something that couldn't be further from God's work.

"You called me angel for the first time, my heart leapt from me. You smile, now, I can see its pieces still stuck in your teeth, and, what's left of it, I listen to it tick. Every tedious beat going unknown as any angel to me." Hozier references his ex-lover chewing on his heart the way Lucifer chews on Judas. He listens to it somehow still ticking, however slowly, and at the end of the song we hear something akin to a heartbeat. The beats are "going unknown as any angel to me" since he can no longer recognise his own heartbeat after it has been mangled by another, and, since he mistook someone alike Lucifer to an angel, the idea of angels must be "unknown" to him.

"Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you? That I'd walk so far just to take the injury of finally knowing you?" We again have this imagery of walking far, referencing the journey of Inferno, and, even though he's aching with the realisation of who his lover truly is, he can't help but be grateful that he does now know them, no matter how painful that may be. That he would do this all again if it meant he at least got to the answer of who they are.

His weak heartbeat follows him through to final track as we begin the Ascent.

ASCENT:

"First Light"

The title is very meaningful for the Ascent. The song references both Dante and Virgil's ascent and the creation of light by God himself. Dante and Virgil leave Inferno through a tunnel that Lucifer left in the Earth as he was thrown down to Hell, and they emerge on the other side of the hemisphere. This song signifies Hozier stepping away from the relationship as he also makes that journey out.

"One bright morning changes all things." Dante is disorientated when he exits Inferno. He'd become so accustomed to the darkness that he asks Virgil, 'How is it that the sun progressed so rapidly from evening to day?' Hozier seems to recognise here that his relationship is no longer fit for him, that the darkness has become too encompassing, just as Dante realises on his ascent.

"The sky set to burst, the gold and the rust, the colour erupts...the sun coming up." Not only does this give the imagery of the birth of light, but it also represents Dante's view on his exit: 'Until...I saw the lovely things the sky above us bears. Now we came out, and once more saw the stars.'

"Like I lived my whole life before the first light." Hozier says that the darkness from his lover was so overbearing that it was hard to believe he'd ever felt light before - that light could not have exists with a darkness this heavy alongside it. It is a call back to "De Selby (Part 1)" - "A darkness so deep that God at the start couldn't bear."

"One bright morning comes. Darkness always finds you either way, it creeps into the corners as the moment fades." He speaks of bringing light to a moment between them, but has it quickly smothered by the darkness inherent in his partner. Another call back, this time to "De Selby (Part 2)" - "And your heart, love, has such darkness, I feel it in the corners of the room."

"After this I'm never going to be the same, and I am never going back again." This lyric is heart-breaking. Hozier states that Inferno has changed him, but he has no wishes to re-enter it. At the beginning of this album, he was begging for the likes of Inferno - "De Selby (Part 2)": "Let all time slow, let all light go." - and now he is desperate to get away from it. In "Francesca", he said, "At the end, I'd tell them, 'Put me back in it.'", yet, now, he's at the end, he's ascended, and he has no desire to go back at all.

He is letting go of his lover because he recognises that this pain was not worth it, that this love was not worth the punishment he received, so he leaves.

---

That was Hozier's Inferno !! I hope this was helpful to some people since it was very fun to make (I'm exhausted) and it's very enlightening to see how these lyrics relate to Inferno (I'm heart-broken) !! Okay, wooooo !! Enjoy !!!

2K notes · View notes

hyeinism · 25 days

Text

( ♡ )⠀𝒆𝒏𝒉𝒚𝒑𝒆𝒏 as . . . 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 .ᐟ ❝ boy you're such a dream to me ❞ ꒷꒦ ot7 𝑒𝑛ℎ𝑎 𝜗𝜚 ⟢ headcanons & established relationship fluff ৲ 𝖒𝖞 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔰 ㅤ ♡ ㅤ

𐙚 . . via's entry ❫ ilysm plz enjoy my first thingy, 2239wc | fem reader .

✦ . . 이희승 ！

bf!heeseung who does aegyo for you and only you! he’d make sure no one else was in close proximity and then go “heedeungie!!” before cringing, and shutting his eyes closed, only reopening them to see your pretty smile.

bf!heeseung who always knows what you want, even if u’ve just glanced at a cute plushie at the store for one second best bet he’ll buy you every plushie from that brand, becoz ur his prince(ss) ofc

bf!heeseung who’d write little romantic ballads for you and call you randomly throughout the day (even during sleep hours!) so that you can hear his melodic voice sing the most shakespearean lyrics about his love for u 🥰

bf!heeseung who is like a bf and a therapist all in one! literally send as many voice messages ranting abt ur life as u can to him becoz he will listen to all of them and then respond with a voice message 10x longer

bf!heeseung who gets a bit impatient… likes listening to u talk but did u know that if u go longer than 42.32 seconds without kissing him he will eventually just stare at your lips and mumble random words while u rant every now and then; it gets you all hot and flustered when you realize where his attention actually is. soon enough, you just go “just kiss me if you want to.” and that’s enough for him to look back up at you, grin and softly press his lips against yours (contrary to popular opinion his kisses would be very soft! 🤓☝️) while grabbing both your shoulders with his hands

bf!heeseung who loves ur shoulders for some reason?? i just have this gut feeling that his favorite part about you is your shoulders?? like idk why, my heeseung senses r just tingling. anyways yes, he’d rest his head on your shoulders, kiss ur shoulders, put his arms over your shoulders and around your neck and whatnot!

✦ . . 박종성 ！

bf!jay who’d spent astronomical amounts of money (willingly :)) in just a week!! he refuses to buy you cheap counterparts, expensive is what his pretty lover deserves !

bf!jay WHO WOULD COOK THE MOST GOURMET MEALS FOR YOU! if it is a cultural dish, he will take time out of his day to cook in the kitchen with you until he learns how to make said cultural dish, then he will make it for u 4ever and ever!!! jay is certainly a caring partner

bf!jay who gives u sm partner privilege it’s insane. like he’d do anything for you without a second doubt. ask him to help you look for ur phone? no need, he’s already bought you 10 different new ones!

bf!jay who is such a romantic partner?? like if ur at work late, he will set up a whole candlelit dinner (hand made cuisine) with “moonlight” by kali uchis playing in the background. (jay looks like that song :3)

bf!jay likes tracing his fingers over your delicately placed features like you were sculpted by Greek Gods, and he’s nothing but a mere commoner admiring your beauty.

bf!jay gets matching things for you two ☹️ matching pandora rings, matching shoes/heels, what is there that he wouldn’t wear to twin with you! hell, he’d even do that cute thing where he matched the color of his tie to your dress!

bf!jay who does likes to go out with you, but he also likes to stay in! no matter what, he wants to be with you.

bf!jay who thinks that reading a romcom cuddled up with you under rain is a perfect way to spend saturday afternoon! (hint: he doesn’t usually like to read romcoms, he just loves spending time with you too much to say no 💖)

to conclude, jay just loves to do things for you. he always tries to impress you/make himself the perfect boyfriend for you by planning dates, getting u gifts, and doing whatever you need at all times (i feel like he believes he’ll never be good enough for u 😕)

✦ . . 심재윤 ！

bf!jake who gets so shy around u?? like stop u could stare at him and when he finally notices he’ll giggle like a little girl about it. he has the biggest crush on you ever it’s unbelievable

“okay fine, i love you more than my dog. i love you more than anyone, actually. is that weird?”

bf!jake who is a playful and lighthearted person, he truly does not have the capability to get mad at you 💞

but ofc he’s human, so when you two (somehow) get into arguments, he’ll always be the one to show up at your door at like 3am with a cute pout on his face because he misses you (it’s been 6 hours since you guys have last talked??) anyways how could you say no to his puppy face! obviously, u let him in and you two cuddle the night away

bf!jake who calls you layla’s mom and gets like cuteness aggression when he sees you and layla together

bf!jake who would say “this is for you” before shooting a hoop (and missing) for shits n giggles

bf!jake who clings onto you like his life depends on it……. this guy is so clingy???? like stop u won’t be able to use your non dominant hand at all because jake is just grabbing onto it for dear life

bf!jake who would LOVEE if his girlfriend had soft and plush cheeks. he’d squish ur face and giggle continuously at how cute you looked, pouty-faced and all.

bf!jake who likes simple yet planned out dates. picnics, arcade dates, carnival dates, and more are all apart of his comfort zone! but if you wanted to try anything new, he’d totally be up for it

bf!jake who loves u sososo unconditionally and always sticks by your side!! he’s like the type to agree with you in public and softly correct you in private.

bf!jake who smothers you with affection hourly reminds you everyday that he loves ur hair, ur face, ur body, ur legs, ur hands, and most importantly, YOU!!!

✦ . . 박성훈 ！

bf!sunghoon who would take you on ice skating dates and then take photos of you slipping on the ice (which don’t even come out that good because he’s busy laughing 🙄 )

bf!sunghoon who teases you then smirks when you get flustered like you teasing him doesn’t result in him having a mental breakdown of some sorts??? like boy plz

bf!sunghoon WHO IS SO SASSY OVER TEXT?? he’s literally your princess. “🙄🫸” is his go to emoji combo

bf!sunghoon who posts mirror selfies of the two of you and tries to be mysterious in the captions: “me n my girl 🖤”

bf!sunghoon who learns random english phrases (or ur main language) to impress you with

bf!sunghoon who wants to match styles with his s/o. would love to be the classy, romantic, sort of private couple.

bf!sunghoon who isn’t that into pda but if someone else starts flirting with you or even looks at you he’ll start being all touchy until the other person goes away. he’s super protective of u but doesn’t really show it that often

bf!sunghoon who pretends to be annoyed when you steal his hoodies knowing damn well he likes when you take his hoodies because they always smell like you after you give them back!!!!!

bf!sunghoon who loves to go on late night walks with you. everytime he sees a wildflower, he’ll pluck it for you and tuck it in your hair

bf!sunghoon who definitely can not fall asleep unless he gets a goodnight kiss from you 💖

✦ . . 김선우 ！

as your boyfriend, sunoo would love your hair sm.

especially if you had long hair he’d buy you shampoos, conditioners, everything! he’d also love to blow dry your hair for you and style it and everything

bf!sunoo would 100% let you sit on his lap and practice your makeup on him!!

bf!sunoo who would love to bake with you!!!! like he would make cakes and then use icing to spell out you two’s intials on the top

bf!sunoo who’s favorite form of affection is holding hands 💞 he’d do the thumb thing and adores when you grabs his hand randomly throughout the day, it gives him butterflies!

bf!sunoo who gets you small bouquets of tulips everytime he sees you!

bf!sunoo who loves to lay on your chest while cuddling and listen to your heartbeat (not in a creepy way, it’s just super comforting for him)

bf!sunoo who places gentle kisses all over your face before you fall asleep. he always makes sure to fall asleep after you so you’re comfortable

bf!sunoo who goes over your drama with you and hates whoever you hate. he’s your best friend and your boyfriend all at once!

bf!sunoo who is insanely creative when it comes to date ideas. he will make sure that he is the one planning dates most/all of the time!! his favorites are picnics, art dates, café dates and museum dates!!

bf!sunoo who loves to have a runway show in your bedroom after every one of your shopping trips!! he would coordinate the outfits and then cheer you on as you strut down the hallway

sunoo would tease you (not that much tho) about your height (would love a short gf!!) and then giggle about it and you just have to accept it cuz it makes him happy and his smile is literally the prettiest thing ever

bf!sunoo who genuinely does not know how to hate you, he’d give the softest love ever ☹️

✦ . . 양정원 ！

bf!jungwon who loves to tickle you. ik it sounds weird but just hear me out 🥰 he’d definitely just tickle the side of your waist randomly while you guys are cuddling just to hear your laugh and annoy you

bf!jungwon who prefers to be called “won” or other nicknames/petnames by you rather than his real name. would pout if you ever called him “jungwon” and go “hey!”

bf!jungwon who keeps a collection of cute photos of you on his phone to go through when he misses u ☹️ it’s genuinely so wholesome.

bf!jungwon also would keep a folder of just a bunch of 0.5 photos of you doing random things and make them your pfp on all messaging apps.

bf!jungwon who does silly little tiktok couple trends with you whenever you ask him to

bf!jungwon would ask you to do a spin everyday to see your outfit and then gush about how good you look!!

bf!jungwon, who often stays up late at night with you while the two of you talk about the future family you will have. | a conversation between the two of you would go, “we’ll have two kids! or three? or four?” “no, we’ll have cats instead. two cats, and one of them is you!”

bf!jungwon who ruffles your hair teasingly only to fix it again, pulling at each strand and placing it in its place gently

bf!jungwon who texts you random romantic song lyrics throughout the day, which never fail to fluster you and make you giggle

bf!jungwon who is a sucker for cheek kisses. before you leave him, he’d be like “oh, you’re forgetting something :(“ and you’d always play along, “what?” you’d say with a giggle as he’d point to his cheek, the place where you’d leave a small but loving peck!

✦ . . 西村力！

bf!riki who gets butterflies whenever you call him his real name, riki, over his stage name. it makes him feel closer to you 💞

bf!riki who would make playlists for the two of you, naming them with you guys’ initials.

bf!riki who’d always had this fantasy of teaching his future girlfriend to dance, and that’s exactly what he does with you. he’d slowly wrap his arms around your own and guide them to the music.

bf!riki just would not let you get out of bed?? like every morning it’s a struggle for you 💔 “ni-ki let me go i’ll be late!” “no, 5 more minutes 😠” and how could u say no

bf!riki who always giggles in between kisses, causing you to pull away and lean your forehead on his while the two of you smile at one another fondly

bf!riki who LOVES to see u in his hoodies!! in fact, he’d even leave his hoodies at ur house just to see you wear it, and then tease you for it. “ew, give me back my hoodie, stinky.” he’d say, but in his head he’s kicking his feet at how ur body is engulfed by the cloth which is 10x too long for you.

bf!riki who pulls you out of bed late at night for impromptu 3AM walks to the convenience store.

bf!riki would teach you japanese and absolutely die everytime you try to say something in japanese for him

bf!riki who would tease you so much, especially if you were shorter than him, he’d misplace your things, putting them on high shelves and whatnot so you have no choice but to ask him to grab it for you

bf!riki who is super shy in front of other people, but when it’s just you two he gets super physical and touchy and affectionate!

bf!riki who mumbles sweet nothings into the crook of your neck while you two are cuddling after he’s sure you’ve fell asleep 💤 💖

tysm for reading! 𓂃 back to the library !

⠀

588 notes · View notes

trashcigs · 6 months

Text

watching their girlfriend perform ・ 보이넥스트도어 idol!female reader + word count 0.7k genre est relationship fluff idol au cw not proof-read — more 🍀

jaehyun

literally a die-hard fan of your group! the loudest and most dedicated fanboy to ever exist???? watches on the big screen to observe every cute and pretty expression you make. jaehyun can't stay in one place, he's practically jumping in his seat, mouthing lyrics while doing small movements of your choreography (cutie). smiles too wide his cheeks start to hurt :(( gives up halfway and stands up from his seat to dance with you, knowing your part by heart but does end up doing the adlibs ( other groups around him find him so cute ).

the camera has caught him so many times he doesn't even care at this point, looking at the camera while pointing to the stage where your group is and giving it a double thumbs up ( don't be surprised when he's going viral again for his obvious adoration for you ). so many videos of him eyes tearing up with a loverboy grin on his face when your singing on stage goes viral cause the boy is just so clearly whipped

sungho

you cannot tear sungho's attention away from the stage. eyes always following you, whoever you may be, with a proud smile on his face. he's just so amazed! i mean imagine not having a super-talented idol s/o!?!? the camera literally catches him at the worst moments bc tell me why he's on-screen with his jaw agaped, hand over mouth, laughing, giggling kicking his feet. always staring at you with a stunned expression, hand over mouth, slapping jaehyun's arm ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

whenever you do something cute, his ears turn red. whenever you do something even remotely amazing he'd just gasp! ( celebration afterward ) notes to buy you a gift after the performance and treat you to an amazing dinner because you deserve it.

riwoo

tries not to make it too obvious or draw attention from your performance, but you can tell how happy he is. riwoo is literally losing his composure almost immediately after youre on the stage. his facial expressions range from 'damn that's good' to eyes widening to a very warm grin when you appear on the big screen. would subtly sing along, some parts (yours specifically) of the song he'll mouth. every once in a while you'd see him clapping along to the beat -- from the instruments to the stage, the dance break, and you-- all so captivating. ( /// ○ _ ○)

smile would grow twice in size once it's your part. stares are you with an 'o' shaped mouth and eyes filled with admiration. already knows your choreo by heart, would find himself on the big screen dancing along to the song then gets a bit shy and sits down. loverboy fr

taesan

will try to keep his reactions to a minimum but can't. I mean how could he? when someone as beautiful as you are belting their heart out onstage, who looks fabulous I might add, who wouldn't want to dance along with you? dongmin's eyes would follow your movements in complete awe, eyes never tearing away from the stage. <(■-■)>

trying to maintain his composure pt2 but FAILS MISERABLY AND is caught on camera literally melting to your stunning smile, finds himself smiling back. dancing to your parts and mirroring your moves in like tiny (?). he is completely whipped, having been told by woonhak that the camera is on him. hiding behind his hands while the others laugh at the way the blush creeps up. ( he's such a cutie)

leehan

always staring at you with so much adoration and love. donghyun loves hearing your voice and at times he'd just close his eyes and sway from side to side and give you such a love-sick smile it's insane. his dimples are so visible from a mile away. eyes glowing at you, when you hit that high note he's so mesmerized, like damn my baby can do that?? you’re the most gorgeous, breathtakingly beautiful idol to him. you have the looks matched with the voice gifted by angels. and he tells you this every day but it's so evident with the way he looks at you. ~(^ ▫ ^)~

you have him wrapped around your finger whether you like it or not. when the camera focuses on you after the end for the performance for the ending fairy, he's on his feet clapping for you. you can hear him cheering so loud from the crowd, so blow a kiss to the camera, and watch him giggle like a school girl. (he'll blow a kiss back and the audience goes wild )

woonhak

is smiling dancing singing -- just everything! woonhak is so excited to see you perform. thinks you look absolutely gorgeous. can't stay in his seat pt2. fighting the urge to dance along and of course, he loses when he finds himself dancing with jaehyun during the chorus. staff members from the side are telling him to calm down, which he does, but not really. has way too much energy (^⸝⸝> ·̫ <⸝⸝ ^)

does your fanchant and fans are literally recording him doing it, calling him ( your group ) best boy, best fanboy. jaw drops to the floor when you wink at the camera and the boy freezes in place. it's like he's falling in love all over again. turns to his hyungs to show them that he knows your choreography, he's adorable. gosh he loves you so much.

taglist open ⁉️ @in2fly @leehanist

674 notes · View notes

threadbaresweater · 8 months

Text

in between | megumi fushiguro

You're not his girlfriend, but it's hard to deny the ache in your chest when you think of him. You're always there when he calls, but at what cost?

The details: female reader; fwb, sex with feelings, no curse au, megumi being distant and unemotional (for the most part). Aged-up Megumi (he and reader are both in their 20's). Previously posted under a different username. 3.1k words. Divider by @/cafekitsune

It’s late when Megumi calls.

The buzz of your phone against the nightstand lulls you from a dreamless sleep. You rub your eyes and squint at the screen, taking a deep breath as you decide whether or not you want to answer. You’re tired– it’s been a long week, and if you pick up the phone, you’ll be cutting into your precious sleep time. The other side of this coin is that if you don’t pick up, you’re not sure when you’ll see him or talk to him again. He’s not exactly been a predictable presence in your life, and you really do enjoy the fleeting moments he gives to you. So you accept the call, squeezing your eyes shut and yawning against the back of your hand.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” His voice makes your spine tingle; it's hushed and raspy, and you know he’s trying not to wake his roommate by talking too loud.

“Well, yeah. It’s…” you pull your phone away and squint at the time. “... ‘s past midnight, Megumi. What else would I be doing?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’ll let you go.”

“No, wait!” Damn it, you curse yourself. It’s clear you sound desperate, but the more you hear his breath, the more you want to feel it on your skin. You sit up and pull a pillow into your lap. “I’m up. I can’t sleep now, anyway.”

His laugh is quiet– a little bashful, a little incredulous. “You sure?”

“Totally.” I don’t know when I’ll see you again. “Give me a minute. Ten. Twenty.” You giggle and blush, swinging your feet over the side of the bed so you can shuffle to the bathroom. “Is it cold outside?”

“Not too bad, really. I’ll see you, then.”

“Yeah, see ya.” You end the call and find something comfortable to wear– nothing showy or dressy. It isn’t like you’re going anywhere public, anyway. Hair fixed into a sensible style, you spritz a little of the perfume that he’s told you he loves and grab your purse, deciding to take the stairs down to the lobby of your building.

He’s waiting in his little black car, windows down, music thumping– though not too loud. He reaches across and opens the door for you and you slip in, breathless, your heart already pounding.

“Hi,” he offers, nonchalant, almost bored. His lips curve into a little grin, and your stomach does a flip.

“Hi.” Your smile is a little more eager, but he thinks it’s cute, and he lets you know so by shaking his head, turning his eyes toward the road. “It’s nice out tonight.”

For a moment, you tune into the music on the stereo and murmur a few bars, laughing to yourself because the lyrics are so Megumi. He has a knack for choosing music that speaks to him while speaking about him at the same time, and you're always struck by how poignant the words are. There's not a particular genre that he sticks to– he's not picky. It just depends on the message of the song. The two of you have had several long discussions about what music means to you, and you always come away from them feeling like you don't know him as well as you thought you did.

Megumi is an enigma. He doesn't talk about his family or his past before you came into the picture. He tells you about all the crazy shit he does with his friends, all of his near-death experiences and places he's traveled and famous people he's met. There's a new story every time you meet up, and at some point you begin to wonder if he's telling the truth or if his life really is as insane as he makes it out to be. At just barely twenty-three, Megumi has seen and done more things than the average person will experience in an entire lifetime.

He's never met anyone like you, though. No one cuts through his defenses the way you do. No one clouds his thoughts the way you do, day in and day out. It's why he has to limit himself to only seeing you once a week, give or take. If he were to see you more often than that, he'd never be able to focus on anything else.

"You're quiet tonight," he says, reaching across to lay his hand on your thigh and give it a subtle squeeze. You roll down your window and suck in some of the fragrant, early summer air, thankful to see that he's driving further away from town tonight. There's a good amount of countryside that you've explored together, and you hope he's driving to your favorite spot. The sky is clear, temperature mild. It's the perfect night to lay a blanket out in your favorite field and stare at the stars.

"Been a long week," you say. "Work has been hell."

"Tell me about it," he encourages, making a gentle left turn onto the road you'd hoped. This one is gravel; he slows the car to avoid jostling you too much, but you don't mind. In the rear view mirror, you see a cloud of dust stirring in your path and it awakens a memory of the last time you came to this spot. You squeeze your legs together and stare out of the open window, hoping that tonight will be another for the memory books.

You tell him about work, about your shitty coworker who got caught stealing money from the bank deposits and threw a giant tantrum on her way out the door. About the lawsuit she threatened and the line of customers that was more concerned with the time they'd waited than the resulting drama from the discovery. By the time you're finished, he hasn't said a word, but he slows the car once he crests the top of a familiar hill and comes to a stop, shifting into park. The rumble of the gravel road stops, and the resulting silence feels too loud for a few seconds. The song changes, and he hums the melody, his arm hanging loosely out the window, fingers drumming on the side of the car.

"I remembered you liked it up here." He's quiet tonight, too. There's something on his mind, but you don't want to pry. Megumi will talk when he wants to and not a second before. So you nod and hum in agreement, hopping out of the car. You circle around to the back and knock on the trunk; he opens it with the press of a button and kills the engine but leaves the radio playing. The music is an important part of his night with you.

You pull the blanket from the trunk and toss it over your shoulder. Megumi meets you and steps close, fingertips grazing your hips while his eyes adjust to the darkness. Your heart jumps when his scent surrounds you, and you find yourself stepping closer as if you're somehow magnetized to him, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

"Hi," you breathe, lips slightly parted, anticipating his next move.

"Let's walk," he says, threading his fingers between yours and stepping off into the tall grass. You don't move far from the car before you stop, declaring that this is the perfect spot, your head tilted back toward the sky as you drink in the stars. Away from the city, they're brilliant and sparkling, and you aren't really able to fathom just how many there actually are.

Megumi thinks your eyes shine brighter than any of them, but he'd never say that out loud. He'd never forgive himself for being so unbelievably dorky by saying something romantic like that. Instead, he lifts the blanket from your shoulders and spreads it out on the dewy grass, then sits down with his long legs crossed, tugging at your hand until you crumple to the ground beside him and kick off your shoes.

"You have a knack for finding good scenery," he admits, gliding his hand back and forth over your knee, your calf, then back up to your thigh. "I like this spot a lot."

"You like small talk tonight, too," you counter, poking his shoulder, feeling impatient for his touch somewhere other than your leg. "What's going on with you? You're acting weird."

He shrugs and grabs your hand before you can reclaim it, lifting it to his lips for a kiss to the back. "I'm not allowed to miss you?"

You laugh a little, short and exasperated. "Well yeah, but just say it instead of trying to make small talk. This isn't like you."

He leans into you then, fingers trailing over your cheek, his breath cool and peppermint-scented. Your eyes flutter closed and you curl your own fingers just under the collar of his shirt, giving him a subtle tug to bring him even closer. "Fine. I missed you. But I don't now." He kisses you then, soft and pliant and achingly tender. It leaves you wanting more, but you could also kiss him just like this for the rest of your life.

"I missed you, too," you whisper when his lips fall to your neck and his tongue traces a path back upward to your jawline. His hands cup your face, fingers fanned behind your ears, guiding you so that more of your neck is exposed to his mouth.

He whispers your name and guides you to lie back just as a breeze blows through the field. It stirs his hair and he pushes it back away from his eyes before leaning against you to kiss you differently now- a little harder, a little more insistent. It's instinct for you to arch your back, hands pressing into his back to hold him in place. You find yourself at ease with Megumi more often than not– you're not afraid to give into your desires, most of which have been discovered and explored thoroughly by (and with) his hand. You've not been with many men, but Megumi has been your favorite.

It's not just about the sex, though anyone looking from the outside in might think that. It's convenient for both of you– no strings, no feelings beyond a deep friendship. Your best friend calls him your fuck-buddy, but you know it's more. Just…not as much as it takes for a full-fledged relationship. Megumi has told you that time and time again. He's satisfied with your arrangement. You are too, for the most part. You're free to date other people, free to live your own life, to finish your degree and keep your apartment tidy and keep your own hours without worrying about accommodating someone else.

When he lifts your shirt away and unclasps your bra, you wonder fleetingly what it might be like to wake up next to him. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and all coherent thought floats away on the night breeze, and you bury your fingers in his hair, crying out his name. You scramble to pull his own shirt away, claiming an unfair playing field, then drag your nails down his back as he moves over top of you, grinding his half-hard self against your thigh. You suck a mark into his neck and hear him hiss, muttering something about his roommate.

You freeze. "What?"

Nonplussed, he devours the soft skin between your breasts, one hand grabbing and pulling while the other parts your thighs, fingers pressing against the heat beneath your jeans. "They're gonna ask about the hickey."

"So?" Try as you might, you can't fight the roll of your hips when he touches you through your pants. He's good. Too good.

"They don't know about us." He kisses downward over your abdomen, nibbling at the soft flesh of your belly before biting the waist of your jeans, pulling them away from your body and nudging his nose against your hip.

"Whose fault is that?" you ask, unable to resist pushing your fingers through his hair again. "Why is it a big deal if you're sleeping with me?"

He unfastens your jeans. You let him. "'S not. Just not their business, that's all."

He's right, but it gnaws at you anyway. You grab fistfuls of his hair and tug when you feel his breath on the part of you that needs him most, and he peels your jeans away fully, dropping them into the pile of clothes at the foot of your blanket. You're completely nude and entirely vulnerable to him now. He kneels over you, bangs hanging in his face, a small smile on his kiss-swollen lips. "You alright?"

You lie. You nod, using the ball of your foot to nudge the bulge in his pants. "Need you," you say, sitting up to help him take off his pants.

Months of this, and you know exactly what he likes– how he wants to be with you, where he likes to be kissed (his neck, just below his ear) and how he likes to be touched (a heavy, reassuring hand, kneading his muscles, pulling at flesh). You know he doesn't care to receive, but he loves to give. Megumi is a generous lover, thorough and deliberate and intentional with every move, each kiss. He wasn't always; the first few times you hooked up were less than incredible, but you couldn't stay away from him. It wasn't always about the sex at first, anyway. He was easy to talk to because he didn't say much. He let you ramble without judgment and without making you feel as if you were burdening him somehow. Though he'd offer little in the way of advice or encouragement, you appreciated his quiet candor, his way of absorbing without getting emotionally involved in your woes.

You connected in a physical way, too. It was obvious the first time he kissed you, and with how fast things escalated, you knew he wouldn't be someone you could easily give up. He made it clear from the beginning that he didn't want a relationship beyond a friendship, and you agreed. You didn't need the drama of a romantic relationship, either.

When he moves inside you, you'd swear you're lifted clean off the ground. He's a perfect fit, and it never fails to take your breath away. Week after week, he brings you the most satisfying pleasure, taking his time to make sure there's not one inch of your body left untouched, un-kissed, unloved. He worships you, the way you make him feel, the way your body seems made for his. He likes to do it outside, though the car has proved hot in more ways than one when the weather isn't cooperative. You've done it in the rain though, all giggles and slippery skin and soaked hair. There's a certain trust you've built, but because you're not a regular thing, it feels special every time he calls you to meet up.

When he feels you begin to quiver, your breath fast and hot against the sharp line of his jaw, he pulls you up, away from the blanket, arms wrapped securely around your back. He shifts just enough so that he's sitting with you straddled across his lap, his cock still buried deep inside you, just at a different angle now. He pushes his thumbs under your chin and cups your cheeks, staring into your eyes with intimidating intensity. He's close– you see it in the way his jaw twitches, his eyes shine with something deep and concentrated. His lips hover close to yours, parted just slightly while you roll your hips against his, fingers knotted together at the base of his neck. You start to tell him you're coming but he licks the words out of your mouth, muffling your whimpers when you start to pulse and fall apart around him.

Megumi curses and bites down on your bottom lip, sharing his breath with you while he tugs at your hair, his other hand splayed across your lower back to push you in at just the right angle so he feels all of you. It spurns his release, too, and his typically quiet nature is betrayed with a surprised shout as he comes faster than he'd known he could. Each breath you take is punctuated with your cries, and you cling desperately to him, your entire body coursing with the aftershock of your release.

For a long time, you hold each other. You wait until your heart steadies, Megumi regulates his breathing, and he kisses your shoulder, then rubs his cheek against the sweat-slick skin of your neck. He kisses your ear, then pushes his nose against your cheek, cradling you as close as you can possibly get.

"It's hard for me…to admit that I need someone," he confesses.

You kiss the crown of his head and tug him against your chest. Though your legs still quiver, you try your best to stay like this for him. He's almost always more likely to talk after you've had sex– he feels raw and vulnerable, and he knows he can bury his secrets in your skin. You're good at giving him that, too.

"I know…I know." You stroke his back and feel him relax further until he's heavy enough to push you down onto your back.

He hovers over you, eyes searching your face. "Why do you always answer when I call?"

"I never know when I'll see you again if I don't," you admit, feeling oddly embarrassed.

"You can call me too, you know," he says, as if it's the most logical thing in the world.

You know better than to fall for it, though. He's said it before, and you've called. You've texted. You've waited and waited for him to call back, and he'll only do it on his time. So, you've learned to save yourself the embarrassment and wait for him to make a move. Is it wrong? Your best friend seems to think so.

Do you care? Nah. It makes sense for you right now. And when Megumi whispers to you how soft you are, and how right you feel, you find you can't argue with him about who calls who and who is more available at the drop of a hat.

It's not love…at least not yet. But you'll enjoy the in-between for a while.

#megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #cleaning up the google docs and found this old gem

708 notes · View notes

sturn3 · 24 days

Text

matt's new girlfriend was obsessed with you.

she couldn't help but stalk your social media. she constantly thought about you. like she was in love.

she knows your star sign, your blood type , she's seen all your movies. she knows he loved you. and for that, she can't help but be butthurt.

every time she'd be in his bed, all she could think about was how you were there. it was driving her insane. how you used to sleep on her side of his bed. she could feel your presence, and it constantly haunted her.

she remembers every detail that matt has told her about you. sometimes things she's asked herself, sometimes things she'd hear him talk about in his sleep, or things that he's let his drunk self slur out.

everytime she'd look in the mirror she couldn't help but compare. your lips, your hips and how she wasn't you ,overall.

other times she'd run into you at parties, the life of every fucking party. she observed the way he looked at you. her insides screaming how she should run far away for her own good.

you were a talented, well known actor, you were good with kids and everytime someone would bring her up, you couldn't help but speak kindly about her. how could she hate you ?

months into her relationship with matt ,she realized that maybe he does love her. maybe she was just crazy. but she couldn't help but feel that every time he called her by her name ,he mistook it for yours.

both you and matt have moved on. you don't even talk. but she can't help it she's got issues.

" i'm so obsessed with your ex."

were you friends with his friends? does nick call you to tell you all the new gossip and talk shit about everyone you've ever known? does chris annoy you by rapping his favorite rap lyrics in your face or constantly taking sips of your beverage ?

are you good in bed? she couldn't help but wonder when he was deep balls inside her. when she'd be switching up positions. when she'd be giving him head. when he'd be giving her head. she wondered if he ever compared you two, too.

does he think about you??

are you easy-going? never controlling?

well-traveled? well-read? God ,you make her so upset.

this is based on olivia's "obsessed" cause i love her and that song so much !! 💋💋

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

233 notes · View notes

ofherpinkways · 7 months

Text

I҉̡̯̺̜̅́͋̃͢͜n̸͐̈́͟͟͝ M̶̶҉̳͈̺͟͢͠͠ͅȳ̸̵̩̜͔͍̔́͟͟͢͡ R̴҉̷̨̖̮̉͑ͯ̑̋͟͠o҉̢̡̲͇̌͗̀͢͝o҉̢̡̲͇̌͗̀͢͝m̴̵҉̸̲̗̰̼͗͌̃̇͟͟͟͠͞͠

( My friends and I giggle about how the "Love ", "In my room " part sounds like Stewie Griffin singingI tried my best yall - 🤍🩰🧸)

cod men x fem reader fic based off the song(Warnings blood,gore,violence,please beware of the lyrics as they may cause triggers)

*tap* *tap* *tap* "Are you gonna let me in ?*tap* Hello? Hello ? "

You died two years ago on a mission , just "simple" way to go , getting caught in the across fire. "Just the wrong place,wrong time" they said

2:45 and the bell went off,thank God

Many people think i'm odd

He hasn't acted the same since, how could he ? You were the love of his life. The small flame of hope in his darkness and trauma. Now you're gone 6 feet under the below rotting way

But I talk with no one and I walk alone

And I avoid sunlight with a chalky tone

I get home and I don't say hi,it ain't no one there

He stopped talking to everyone completely , shutting everyone out as he rebuilt the walls. The walls that you were helping him break down. Instantly going to his dorm after every mission without saying anything

I don't care,I walk and go right up the stairs

To my room,get in bed and I just wait for dark

He sits in his dorm for hours on end lost in dark thoughts

Because that's when the real show starts

(Tap,tap) tap,tap on the glass go the piece of ass

He eventually started seeing things , YOU. He started showing up about year after your death

So young and pretty ,it's too bad she passed

There you stood again pale and cold

But she comes to my room and we talk at night

You've been showing up every night for about two months now

She's demonic and bloody but she holds me tight

Obviously it wasn't actually you. You stand there lifeless with glossy eyes and a sinister,stomach turning grin .(like the one smiles in Smile 2022) He didn't care

In my bedroom,with her,I'm never alone

And I kiss her cold lips until the morning comes

You guys spend the nights in heated make out sessions

Then she gone,I can still hear her voice loom

But she only exists in the dark of my room

Love,I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

He became obsessed

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

I try and smile a lot but I'm always frontin'

But I do love a ghost and at least that's somethin'

She don't talk much and when she does,it gets cold

3:00 am now and the whole Base grows cold , nothing feels right

Usually we just lay there,where we hold we each other

We're lovers, we don't need others

The two of you stay snuggled against another

One of my mother's cats jumped up on the covers

And it scared my baby,'cause she don't like pets

The k-9's started to bark loudly outside of the barracks not liking the dark eerie presence in the air , causing you to leave him

So I twisted its fuckin' head off at the neck

"Look baby,it's bloody,it's gone,it's doomed

"please! come back to the room"

"I'll do anything for thee,don't ignore me"

This is more than a sick love story

There he sat begging and crying for you to return

Without you,I'd bring a shotgun to school

And I will if you want me to,for any reason

I hate that you leave when the lights come on

And if I had it my way the fuckin' sun would be gone

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love, I do adore you

In my room

Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

He just wants you back

Sometimes I kiss her,I start shakin'

Your demonic self has him on a choke hold

She slips me the tongue and it tastes like bacon

There the two of you sit kissing in the dark,footsteps are near by

Uh-oh,something's wrong, baby's upset

you pulled away from him,your frown shifting to smirk

She told me she was spotted by the neighbor's kid

She can't come back now.'cause they know our secret

Unless I can make them keep it

One of the other guys "saw" you

If i do, she may come back to life

Now I'm in their yard with a shotgun and knife

Cut the screen,went and sun the kid

Blew a bowl of spaghetti in the side of his head

He got up and out of the dorm,pinning his own teammate,his own friend to the wall bashing his head against the brick wall in fit of rage

Then the daddy was next,next runnin down

He went after everyone else

I shredded his throat and he was quick to fall,tossed the Mossberg and gribbed the knife

Started stabbing the shit of his wife

One by one he got to everyone

Went home a bloody mess with a job well done (tap,tap)

Wash up and wait for my baby to come (tap,tap)

He cleaned himself up and sat in his bed waiting for you

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

There he sat waiting

I waited two, or three days, four days

Waitn' for the tap tap like always

Days passed and you still haven't shown up yet

I waited and hated this

I created a bloody mess

Guilt started to hit him

I waited for two, or three months, four months

Waitn' for the tap,tap just for once

I waited two, or three days, four days

Waitn' for the tap tap like always (where is she?)

I waited and hated this(why isn't she comin' back ?)

I created a bloody mess (tap,tap)

Worry started to hit him

I waited for two, or three months, four months(I fuckin' killed those people!)

He killed his teammates, his friends

Waitin' for the tap,tap just for once ("where the fuck is she ?")

I waited and hated this (tap,tap)

I created a bloody mess(why isn't she coming back?)

(Love) I waited two or three days,four days

GUILT

(In my room) waitin 'for the tap,tap like always (I can't believe I did)

WORRY

(Love) I waited and hated this

GUILT

(in my room,you and I)I created a bloody mess ("I killed them")

WORRY

(Love) I waited two or three months, four months

(in my room) waitin' for the tap,tap just for once ("where is she")

GUILT

(Love) I waited and hated this

(In my room you and I) I created a bloody mess

He went insane

274 notes · View notes

mirage-aera · 5 months

Text

•°. *࿐ Afterlife

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Fire On Fire - Sam Smith

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: Simon thought that staying with you would be giving you a death sentence, he thought breaking up would protect you better than he ever could. He was so wrong in the end and regrets it deeply.

Word count: 6.966

Masterlist

Flashbacks are paragraphs in italics!

TW!! Mention of character death, suicide.

If this triggers you then please don’t read it!

Simon has never been easy, he has reminded you of that fact countless times. He doesn’t open up easily, he rarely shows affection, and rarely says ‘I love you’. But on the other hand, he’s insanely loyal. Willing to go to impossible ends to stick with you. He’s so incredibly protective, he’d go to any means necessary, especially in this line of work, to keep you safe from danger. Even if it means sacrificing his happiness, and letting you go. He’d never meant to just take your love for him for granted. No, that was never his intention. But when his identity gets leaked to the enemies, and they’re threatening him with you? Common sense flies out the window and he has one thing on his mind. Keeping you safe. Even though he knows you are fully capable of protecting yourself and others, he isn’t looking at this matter from a soldier’s point of view. No, he’s looking at it as your lover.

So when he goes home to pick some stuff up for you two at the barracks. For once, he’s actually in shock. His apartment, your shared apartment has been ransacked. No doubt by the people wanting to watch him burn. They have figured out where you live. Your safe sanctuary has become unsafe, and he hates it. This is his last straw. He’s doing this for your own good, he keeps telling himself that. He takes his time in the apartment. He grabs the stuff you’ve asked for and whatever he needs. But he also looks at every single object that reminds him of you. He glances around your shared bedroom. All of the little things remind him of the time you spent together. He looks at your guitar that is resting on the wall next to your dresser. You’ve always loved music, in all shapes and forms. You loved making your own music. Composing and singing songs for him. You loved listening to your playlists while working out. Playlists you made him listen to and he slowly grew to love. Now he can’t start his workout without having the music blasting in his ears.

His favorite song of yours though? Definitely the first one you wrote. You called it ‘Fire On Fire’, and you explained that it sums up your relationship perfectly. Both are insanely protective of each other, in the field you use it as an advantage. Always make sure to be paired up, you two get the job done efficiently without any casualties. When you two work it’s like a choreographed dance. You always know what the other is thinking. He remembers the times when he had nightmares, and let's face it, it happens frequently. You would softly sing this song to make him go back to sleep. And he would sleep without nightmares those nights.

You walk into his small office in your shared apartment happily and excitedly. “Simon!” He looks up at hearing you call his name. He casts a look at the papers waiting to be signed by him on his desk. He shoves the papers aside. Ready to give you his undivided attention. “What is it, lovie?” You grin at him, “I finished it! I finally finished it!” You say happily. He looks at you confusingly for a moment, “what did you finish?” You chuckle, “the song! Do you want to hear it? If you’re not too busy of course.” He casts another look at the papers before smiling up at you, “I’m never too busy for you, lovie. Let’s hear it.” You clap happily, “great let’s go!” You drag him by the hand to your bedroom. Where your guitar is resting on the bed. You grab it and sit down on the bed. You smile at him sheepishly, “I’ve figured out the lyrics for the whole song but I still need to figure out the melody I want to use. The chorus, however, is done. I’ll sing and play it for you.” He nods at you for you to continue. You play a few chords before starting.

“Fire on fire, would normally kill us.”

You start with a shaky breath. Slightly nervous of what he might think. As if he can read your mind. He smiles at you and motions for you to continue. He mouths, ‘you’re doing great.’ This sparks your confidence and you sing with a brighter tone.

“With this much desire, together we’re winners.”

You close your eyes as you let yourself get carried away by the song.

“They say that we’re out of control and some say we’re sinners.”

“But don’t let them ruin our beautiful rhythms.”

“Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me.”

“And look in my eyes.”

You open your eyes and glance at Simon, who’s staring at you with an awestruck look on his face. You smile at him.

“You are perfection, my only direction.”

“It’s fire on fire,” you hum, “fire on fire.”

You close off the song as you slowly stop playing. You put the guitar down, “so what do you think, my love?” Simon is still staring at you with an awestruck expression. “It’s perfect lovie. You outdid yourself.” You give him a shy smile, “I wrote it for you, to remind you of the love that I feel for you. That I’m always there for you, no matter what happens.” He stays silent before engulfing you in a tight hug. You widen your eyes but hug him back nevertheless. You could get used to this warm fuzzy feeling.

He sighs and leaves the bedroom. He enters the living room. He looks sadly at the overturned furniture and broken glass everywhere. Yet despite all of this, this is still your home. No matter how run down it gets, the memories will stay and be there forever. Serving as reminders from the once-happy couple. He looks at the pictures that are, surprisingly, still hanging on the walls. Pictures that have his face hidden, in every single one. You’ve respected his wishes by not putting up pictures with his face revealed. He looks at one particular picture.

Today the 141 was granted some time off. Bonding time for the team, as Price calls it. You’re all dressed casually. No one would guess that you’d be highly trained individuals looking like this. Well except for Simon, for he’s still donning his iconic skull balaclava. You’ve come up with the idea to have an outdoor picnic so that you all can relax and share food. Everyone prepared a little something for the picnic. John brought some sandwiches, Kyle brought lemonade, Johnny brought cupcakes, you and Simon prepared various fruits covered in chocolate. Your spot is surrounded by all different kinds of flowers. The big wide smile that you’re wearing on your face has made Simon’s entire year. After you’ve eaten. You decide that running around the flower fields will be a great idea. You beg Simon to run around with you, saying that it’ll be fun. Knowing Simon has a hard time saying no to you, you give him a small pout and he instantly agrees. Albeit a little begrudgingly. You drag him through the fields as you let out loud boisterous laughs while Simon is smiling behind his balaclava. You can tell by the way his eyes crinkle and sparkle in delight. Johnny takes a picture of you two sneakily. Knowing Simon would beat his ass if he found out. But in the end, it’s worth it, this will be one of your most cherished memories.

He smiles fondly at the memory that comes through when he stares at the picture. His smile slowly fades from his face. Maybe he doesn’t need to break up with you, you’re fully capable and he can protect you if anything were to happen. But what if something does happen? He could’ve prevented it all if he just didn’t let his resolve break. No, he has to do it for your sake. He’d rather have you hate him and be alive than you still loving him and dying because of him. He heads to the front door and takes one last look around. You’ll have to be relocated, and preferably far away from him for your safety. Your apartment isn’t safe anymore. He nods and closes the door behind him. He’s not ready to close this chapter but he has to. It’s the right thing to do. He heads back to you, reciting in his head what he’ll say to you in the meantime. Yet every time he chokes up and can’t think of what to say. He’ll have to wing it and hope he doesn’t look as pathetic as he sounds.

Once he makes it back to base, he’s on a hunt for you. He can feel his gut twisting in ways that make him nauseous. He wants to back out, so fucking bad. But then he sees your dead figure and then reminds himself you’d be happier and safer without him. Without the constant figure of death looming behind him. Following him everywhere he goes. He eventually finds you in the commons room with the rest of the team. You didn’t notice him walking in until he stopped in front of you. “Simon! You’re back, did you get the stuff?” He shakes his head, “can we talk, privately.” You give him a worried look but nod and follow him to wherever he’s leading you. He eventually makes it to his office and holds the door open for you. You step inside as he walks up behind you. You turn to him with a confused look on your face. “Did something happen?” You ask him. He nods his head, “our place got ransacked. Probably the same people who found my real identity.” You widen your eyes before narrowing them, “okay. We’ll deal with them swiftly then. The faster the better, right?”

Simon takes a deep breath in, it’s now or never. He opts for now. “I don’t think they’re stopping there. And let’s be honest, our progress is slow.” You raise a brow, “we can push the mission, maybe the higher-ups will let us focus on them.” He shakes his head, “that’s not happening. Listen, I think it’s better we go our separate ways.” The distraught look on your face makes his heart shatter. “Wait what? Why? We can go through this together! You can’t just throw away what we have now!” He shakes his head, “they’ve already breached my privacy. How long will it take for them to find out about us? Do you know how dangerous that is for you? It’s for your own good.” He refuses to tell you they’ve already threatened him by using your name. You can feel anger flaring up. “So what?! I’m fully capable of defending myself! You of all people should know this, Simon!” He can feel his temper rising, “I know! I am fully aware! Don’t even think that I doubt you because I don’t.” He says the last part softly. Not wanting to argue with you, not like this. You cry out desperately, “then tell me Simon! What are you so afraid of?!” He looks you in the eye, “you!” You get stunned by his answer, before you can retort he continues, “I’m afraid of losing you.” He says with a small voice. You stare at him with an incredulous look, “yet you want to break up?! You know how ridiculous you are sounding right now?!” He stays silent. You scoff, tears welling up in your eyes. “So this is it then? Just like that?” He nods, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to get hurt if you stay with me.” Hearing that he’s determined in his decision you nod, accepting it. “I’ll see you on the next mission, lieutenant.” You turn around, ready to leave his office. He reaches out for your arm, grabbing it softly, “please, it doesn’t have to be like this.” You whip your head around, tears falling, “then how do you want it to be? You want to stay friends? Fine! I’ll see you around the base then.” You ramble out, not letting him speak before storming out. A few tears fell from his own eyes. He rubs his eyes aggressively, rubbing his black face paint everywhere. ‘Good job, Simon. You’ve ruined the only good thing you had in your life.’ He thinks to himself. ‘It’s for her own protection’ is ringing through his mind like a mantra, torturing him with the thought of you.

The next few months are hell for the both of you. You’ve been drowning yourself in work and composing more music, while Simon has been drinking his mind away. Wanting to forget the immense hurt look you had on your face when he said those regretful words. The rest of the team isn’t blind. They can see something happening between the two of you. They’ve tried talking to you both about it but only to get the same words back, “he broke up with me.”, “I did it for her protection.” Johnny having enough of both of your sulking moods, decided to try and fix whatever’s been broken between you both. He knocks on Simon’s door before turning the knob and letting himself in. “I think the point is to wait for an answer before you let yourself in.” Simon slurs out his words as he holds a glass of whiskey. Johnny frowns and takes the glass from him, “you’re out of your mind L.T.” Simon scoffs, “tell me something I don’t know.” Johnny raises an eyebrow, “you need to get your shit together. You’ve been miserable without each other. Everyone can see it, fucking hell even the birds can see it, except for you guys.” Simon chuckles dryly, “thanks for the pep talk Johnny, you can leave now.”

He frowns at Simon’s response. “Leaving her in the name of protection is so fucked up on so many levels, Ghost. If anything she’ll be in more danger without you by her side than without you. So I’m not requesting you. I’m demanding you to get your shit together, apologize to her, and get back together already.” Simon stays silent, thinking about it. Knowing he finally got through to the lieutenant he leaves to let him figure it out on his own. All he needed was a little step in the right direction.

Meanwhile, you’ve been summoned by Price. You walk into his office, which happens to be next to Simon’s. “You’ve asked for me Price?” He nods and motions for you to sit. “We have intel on a secret base to the north of here,” he says while pointing to a location on a map. “We need someone to quickly get in and out and retrieve more intel.” You nod along, “I’m guessing you want me to go in?” He nods, “that’s correct. I’m warning you, this will be a solo mission. The lesser the better, unless you want Ghost to come along.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I’ll go solo.” You state. He nods, “you leave tomorrow at 8 in the morning with Kyle, he’ll be your exfil.” You nod and leave, wanting to prepare for the mission.

Morning comes and you gear up together with Kyle. You head to the small heli that’ll bring you to the site. You can’t help but have a sinking feeling in your gut, you can’t tell whether it’s the pre-mission nerves or if it’s the heartache you’ve been experiencing for the past months. You load up into the heli and close your eyes as you listen to the rotors whirring. Trying to shut down so you could shake off the feeling but to no avail. Usually, Simon would help you. But this will be the first time in a while that you’d have to do without.

You sit in the chinook nervously. Nervous for the upcoming mission. At this rate, you’ll make yourself sick. Johnny is sitting to your left, giving you a worried look. You wave him off saying, “I’ll be fine in a minute.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t push it. You close your eyes as you try to calm down. You can hear a heavy thud coming from your right. You ignore it as you’re more concerned with your nerves. Suddenly a hand engulfs your own and squeezes it. You crack open an eye and smile once you’ve realized who it was. It’s Simon, who’s staring at you with warm eyes through his mask. He doesn’t need to say anything, he can convey it all with his eyes. Instantaneously you can feel the nerves leaving. All you need is Simon and you’ll be alright.

You open your eyes. The sinking feeling has not left at all, if anything it only increased. Making you feel slightly nauseous. You notice Gaz looking at you concerned. He crouches in front of you and takes a hand of yours in his own, squeezing it like Simon did. You give him a small smile, appreciating his attempts. But in the end, it just isn’t the same. The helicopter lifts off and soars through the air. As the base gets smaller and smaller in the distance, you can’t help but feel that it might be the last time you’ll see the base. You feel your phone vibrating in your front pocket. You open up the pocket and fish out your phone. You frown once you see the lit-up screen. It’s Simon, of course it is. You choose to ignore it for now. Whatever he needs to say can wait until you return. Right now, you need to focus and get yourself and that intel home. Eventually, the heli slows down as it prepares to descend. The doors open as you leave the safe space. You check your comms once more before nodding to Gaz. “I’ll be waiting for you here, don’t do anything stupid.” He tells you. You chuckle at him, “as long as you don’t get into trouble I won’t either.” He rolls his eyes. You give him one last look before leaving.

As you make your way to the hidden base stealthily you can’t help but feel like something is not right. ‘Come on. You’ve been on countless missions like this with the team. It’s been fine then, it will be fine now.’ You think to yourself. You close off your mind as you trek through the dense vegetation. Eventually, the base emerges from the treetops. You lay down as you pull out your binoculars from your side. You spot a less guarded spot, that’s where you’re going to sneak in. You get up and make your way down from the overlook. While keeping watch of the guards around the spot you want to infiltrate. You notice they don’t have a set patrol, which might work in your favor later when you start taking down guards.

You approach the spot and hug the wall. You grab your grappler from your pack and launch it onto the railing of the wall. As you ascend the wall you take another look around, if you’re not careful they could see you and raise the alarm. You quickly ascend to the top and take out the guard hanging around that area. You shoot the next two with your silenced gun. You don’t bother hiding the bodies, it should be a quick in and out. You lean over the wall as you look around for the next entry point. From what you remember of the map that Price supplied you with, the office with the documents should be near your position. You quickly scan the main building looking for the office. Your eyes land upon a room. Bingo, that should be the office. You figure you could quickly make your way to a side entrance and make your way to the office from there. Any other entry point would be too risky, resulting in you getting caught.

You make your way down with a rope and head for the fire escape staircase. No guards are stationed there so it should be a quiet way in. You ascend the stairs and quietly open the door that leads to the building. You keep your gun up in case. Noticing no visible threat you let out a sigh of relief and start heading towards the office. Luckily you didn’t come across any guards on your way to the office. You entered the office quickly and closed it quietly behind you. You lower your gun and look around. ‘Right, any important papers and any other valuable intel is what I came for.’ You remind yourself. You head to the computer and start downloading files from it to a stick. Laswell can analyze that data later. You start making quick work of the drawers. Pulling out any important-looking documents and storing them in your pack. Once you’ve run out of stuff to take, you unplug the stick and store it as well. You take one last look around the office. You hold a finger to your comm, “Gaz. I got the intel. Heading to exfil now, eta 20 minutes.” You hear a ‘copy that.’ from Gaz as you swing the door open.

Only to be greeted with a pistol aimed at your head. You recognize him as one of the leaders of the organization. “I’ve been expecting you, sergeant.” You notice he’s alone, essentially you could make a move and make your escape. But he would likely try and shoot, thus alerting the whole base. It’s either that or get captured by them, which would lead to your demise. Preferring your chances with the first option. You raise an eyebrow at him, “well you aren’t expecting this.” You quip as you shove his arm upwards, making him shoot in surprise. Not even 5 seconds pass and you can already hear footsteps thundering in your direction. You shove him and make a run for it, knowing if you try and go for the kill, his henchmen will surely kill you. You leap through the door and close it shut behind you. You take a quick look at the positions of the guards. They’re all swarmed around you. There’s no way for you to get past them without getting injured. And you definitely don’t have the stopping power to brute force your way through.

You quickly radio Gaz to update him, “I’ve been made!” A bullet whizzes by your head. Gaz surely heard it too. Well shit, your position is now known. Shortly after more bullets are flying your way. You duck down, you try to come up with solutions. You can’t think of any right now. You’re just going to have to make a run for it and hope for the best. You shakily bring a finger up to your comms, “I need to make a run for it, there’s no other way!” You inform Gaz. You hear rustling on his end, “negative! Stay there and preferably out of sight. I’m coming to get you out of there!” He shouts out. You widen your eyes in shock. That’s a horrible plan. You voice out your opinion, “are you insane?! What is one person going to help?! There are hundreds of them versus us two!” You can hear him cuss. “Fuck! Okay, you listen to me right now! Take as much cover as you can, I’ll try and provide covering fire. I’m not far from the overlook, give me 1 minute.” You peak over the cover, and grimace. You might not have a minute. Some are getting ready to storm your position. You think, the main entrance is going to be full of them. They haven’t found out where you came from so they’ll expect you to exit via the main entrance. The way you came in is going to be your only option.

“Okay, I’m in position, whenever you’re ready.” You hear his voice crackle through the comms. You inhale and exhale. ‘Now or never.’ You think to yourself. You point your gun at the small squad at the base of the stairs. You open fire at them, mowing them down successfully. You quickly run down the stairs and make your way to the wall. You feel a hot pain in your shoulder. You’ve been hit. You don’t even need to look, you were going to get hurt one way or another. Not feeling much from it you continue running to the wall, using trucks and containers as cover. Not staying too long behind cover otherwise you’ll get overrun. Sometimes you can hear thuds around you, signaling that Gaz is doing a good job at providing covering fire. You make it to the wall in record time and start climbing the rope. It’ll be a miracle if you don’t get more injuries while scaling the wall. You brace yourself for whatever might come your way. You make sure the rope is still secure by tugging on it a few times. Satisfied with the sturdiness, you start climbing up. You can hear multiple rounds go into the wall next to you. Sooner than later bullets start embedding themselves all over you. Your legs, torso, and shoulders. You wince in pain as everything starts to burn with every move you make. You grit your teeth until you make it to the top.

You rest for a minute as you assess your injuries. You count at least five bullet wounds. You’re not making it out alive, that’s for sure. You grimace as you face the harsh truth. “You got to move! They’re closing in on you!” You can faintly hear Gaz’s voice ringing through your ear. You move through the pain, you have to at least try to make it back. You grit your teeth as you pull yourself up. You grab hold of the grappler again and start descending. You run as fast as you can away from the base. Shit, it burns. It burns badly. You just wish you didn’t have to sit through this pain for long. You make a safe distance away from the base. You rest against a tree. You definitely can’t make your way to the exfil point, at least not on your own. You slowly sink yourself to the floor. Your vision starts to blur, and gunshots get quieter and quieter. Either they stopped firing or you’re losing your hearing. You bet it’s the latter.

You start coughing. You’re coughing up blood. Internal bleeding. Great. As the pain starts fading into the background, your mind runs rampant. You lean your head back as you stare up at the sky. You chuckle weakly, “I’m sorry Simon.” You say to no one in particular. You just somehow wish that he could feel that you’re sorry. You know it hasn’t been easy for him either. And part of it is your fault. You’ve been pushing him away. Drowning in your own grief, that you failed to consider his feelings. Tears slowly start trickling down your face and into the muddy ground below you. “I’m so sorry Simon, I still love you, so so much.” You whisper out. Not having any strength anymore. You slowly close your eyes, losing the battle between you and the blood loss. Little did you know that your comms were still open and Gaz heard everything. If you can’t say it to him yourself then he will make sure he passes your message to Simon. In your stead. But first, he has to find you. He runs around, desperately trying to find you. Eventually, he spots a faint trail of blood. Knowing it has to be you, he follows it. Once he finds you he shouts your name. You being unresponsive worries him. He holds two fingers to your neck. Trying to find a pulse. To his relief, he finds one. It’s faint, but it’s there. He picks you up and carries you to the heli and demands for medics to be standing by at base, ready to receive you.

***

Simon heads to your room and knocks on your door, “(Y/n)? Can we talk?” It feels so weird to call you by your name. He used to always call you ‘lovie’. He frowns as he hears no answer. He’s about to knock on your door again until Johnny speaks up, “she’s gone.” Simon whips his head around to face him. “What do you mean she’s gone?” He asks. “She went on a mission that Price assigned her to.” Simon stares at him, “when is she supposed to be back?” Johnny checks his watch and frowns, “she was supposed to be back 15 minutes ago.” Simon frowns, a late arrival usually means bad news. He storms his way to Price’s office. “Why did you send her alone? Why didn’t you send me with her?!” He asks coldly. He sighs, “she can get in and out quickly, that’s why I asked her. And I did ask her, she said no. She said she’ll go solo. Gaz is with her to provide exfil.” Simon gives him a hard stare and leaves the office. He has no choice but to wait for you, and hope for the best.

Multiple minutes pass as he waits anxiously for you. Eventually, a commotion stirs him out of his zoned-out state. Several members of the medical staff run by in a frenzy. They’re shouting medical stuff at each other that he doesn’t understand. All he hears are, “critically injured inbound!”, “bring blood bags!”, and “prep for surgery!”. Suddenly everything goes in slow motion. ‘Critical, surgery, blood bags’ those are the words that are swirling through his chaotic mind. He closes his eyes and curses to himself. You can’t die. Not you. Anyone but you. He regrets many things in his life. But this will probably be at the top of his list if you don’t make it. Fuck. Why is he just standing here? Why can’t he do something useful for you, not even for one second? He has let you down continuously, and he hates it. He hears more commotion. It’s you being wheeled past him in a gurney with the same medical staff by your side, with a blood bag hanging over you, and more of them in the arms of a medic. He watches as you get wheeled into the infirmary. The state of you almost makes him gag. How the hell did you even get out of there alive? After being so long in the military, he knows someone with those injuries will not make it back, or stay alive for much longer. It’s a miracle you’re still breathing, no matter how weak it is, you’re still breathing.

He heads to the infirmary to wait for you. He wasn’t there for you during the mission, the least he could do is sit and wait for you. That if you’re alive after surgery, he could give you a heartfelt apology. Something that he rarely does. He sits in a chair and holds his head in his hands. A few minutes pass and he notices Gaz sitting next to him. He sighs, “what happened?” Knowing Gaz is the only one who can provide him with the answers. Gaz winces, “Ghost, I don’t think you want to know.” He feels growing frustrated with Gaz’s answers, “I fucking asked, didn’t I? Tell me, I want names.” Gaz sighs but resigns to his wishes, “it’s the same organization. She needed to get into an office to gather more intel. Turns out this whole thing was a trap. They were waiting for her outside the office door. One thing led to another and the whole base was sent upon her. I tried to give as much covering fire as I could. But she still got shot, multiple times. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, “not your fault, I should’ve been there,” he mumbles out. Gaz scoffs, “I don’t think it would’ve made a difference. There were way too many of them.” Simon gives him an empty look, “I would’ve gotten her out of that situation, at all costs.” Gaz shakes his head, “mate. I know how capable you are together but there’s no way you would’ve gotten out of there together in one piece.” He shrugs, “I never said I would get out of there, did I?” Gaz catches on to what he means, “are you saying you would lay down your life for her?” He nods, “she deserves to live more than I do.” Gaz can sense he doesn’t want to talk anymore so he drops it. Gaz eventually leaves, needing to debrief with the captain. Thus leaving Simon all alone.

Torturous hours pass by. He feels like her chances of surviving are dropping by the hour. Eventually, a trauma surgeon pops out of the double doors. He looks around before meeting Simon’s gaze. “Are you here for sergeant (Y/l/n)?” He nods, confirming his intentions. The surgeon drops his mask, showing Simon his grim face. “She’s alive, but she’s far from stable. We put her in an induced coma, to help her body recover from the injuries she sustained. It could last a couple of days up to weeks or several months. You may visit her if you wish. Try talking to her, it might stimulate her brain and thus make her wake faster.” Simon gives him a nod, “thank you.” The surgeon gives him a pitiful smile before leaving.

Simon enters the small room you’ve been put in. He frowns once he sees you lying on the bed. His breath gets caught up in his throat. He’s never seen you look so frail, fragile, weak, almost dead like. The only signs showing you’re still kicking are the monitor beeping and your chest moving up and down ever so slightly. He pulls up a chair next to your bed. He takes your hand in his. He has a million words to tell you. He wants to tell you how much he loves you, and how he took your love for granted. He wants to tell you how sorry he is, that he’s wrong for thinking breaking up would protect you. When in fact it’s the opposite. Every time he tries to convey these words to you, he can’t. The words get choked up, causing his sentence to become incoherent. So instead he opts for a simpler option, one that hopefully conveys all of his regrets in five words.

“I’m so sorry, for everything.”

The monitor beeps faster in response. He widens his eyes, you can hear him. He squeezes your hand. “I never should’ve let you go, lovie. It was a mistake on my part. When you wake up, I’ll take you to all of your favorite places. If you’ll have me back.”

During the next few days, it seems like you’re only regressing. Your body can’t keep up with all of the demands it needs to properly heal. Simon has been there, every hour, every day. The team has tried to drag him out to at least take a shower, but he refuses. Multiple what-ifs run through his mind. What if you wake up? And he isn’t there for you. Or what if you die? And he’s not there with you. It would break him. He’s not a fool, he knows your days are limited. He knows your chances of pulling through are close to none. So he stays there, talking to you and holding your hand. Squeezing it in intervals, to let you know he’s still there. He suddenly gets an idea in his head. What if he sings your song to you, would you appreciate that? Probably, he knows how much you love that song. So he sings.

“My mother said I’m too romantic. She said, “you’re dancing in the movies.””

“I almost started to believe her. Then I saw you and I knew.”

He starts tearing up, he might never hear you sing this song again. He might never hear your voice again. Your laughter, your giggles, your excitement. All of it. He might never hear them again.

“Maybe it’s ’cause I got a little bit older. Maybe it’s all that I’ve been through.”

“I’d like to think it’s how you lean on my shoulder. And how I see myself with you.”

He thinks of the domestic life you have behind the scenes. Away from the military. Where you would have movie marathons, forcing him to watch with you. He would pretend to hate it, but secretly. He adores the time spent with you. He thinks of all the times you would lean on him, no matter where you are. You would fall asleep on him, it’s the sense of safety that he gives you that puts you at ease. He starts choking up.

“I don’t say a word.”

“But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know.”

“There you go, saving me from out of the cold.”

He can’t continue anymore. His tears are not stopping, they continue to fall and get soaked up by his balaclava. He hasn’t cried in years, and yet here he is. Crying like a baby. He doesn’t want to let you go, but he knows it’s the right thing. If you’re not in pain then you will be when you wake up, if you wake up. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he cries. He pulls away and tries to compose himself, “it’s okay to let go if you’re hurting, lovie. I won’t be mad, I promise.” He notices that the beeping is slowing down. He gives a weak smile, even though you can’t see him. “I’ll love you forever and always, my love. Rest well, I’ll see you on the other side sometime. Hopefully, I get to properly apologize and take you around to all of the places you want to go.” He sobs as your heartbeat continues to slow until it ceases to beat. “I’ll be okay, lovie.” He whispers.

He was not okay. He was far from being okay. He thought that he’d be okay after your funeral, that he’d get the closure he was craving. It’s been weeks, and the pain is still there if not stronger. He can’t stand it. Sometimes his mind is playing tricks on him. Sometimes he can feel a cold air embracing him, as if you’re hugging him. Sometimes he can hear you say, ‘I love you.’ Or ‘I forgive you.’ He’s losing his mind, that is clear to anyone. His aim has been shakier, not as fast on his feet anymore. Fuck, he’s losing his touch.

Everyone is concerned, he sees the worried glances they throw in his direction. The way they avoid the topic of your death at all costs. He hates it, he hates how weak he’s become. He hates how they’re pitying him. One day he gets an idea. There’s a way for him to come see you sooner. Not a pretty one, but it’ll do. He dwells on it for the next few days. Not wanting to do anything rash. He has no family left that he gives a shit about. He only has the military going for him. But going at this rate, he’ll most likely get discharged because of his mental health. How he’s falling apart at the seams. Funny how he’s been alone for most of his life. Yet the instant something good enters his life it gets taken from him. He can’t function properly anymore after you died. Like taking candy from a baby.

Later in the evening. He skipped dinner, not bothering anymore. It’ll only be a waste on him. He writes a short note addressed to the 141. He explains that it’s not their fault. That he’ll be happier than if he stays here, without you. He places the note neatly on the corner of his desk. Knowing someone will come running once they hear the bang. He grabs the handheld gun he stores in his bedside drawer. He stares at the gun. Weapons have never felt heavy on his hand. Let alone handheld guns. Yet now it’s like the heaviest thing he’s ever lifted. He brings it up to his temple. He gets the easy way out, you had to suffer with at least five bullets in you. He closes his eyes and thinks of you. He smiles at the image he has painted in his head. A genuine smile, one that hasn’t appeared on his face in a long time. Again, he feels cold air engulfing him once again. He laughs, that has to be you comforting him. As you always do. He rests his finger on the trigger.

“I’ll see you in a minute, my love.”

He pulls on the trigger. In one second three things happen. A loud bang. Blood splattering. A thud.

One second he’s seeing black. Before he knows it, the next second he sees white. A figure slowly approaches him. He squints his eyes, trying to make out who that figure is. A smile creeps up his face once he realizes who it is. His lovie. You smile at him as you walk closer to him, “hi Simon.” Tears start welling up in his eyes. He says nothing as he pulls you into his strong embrace. You sigh but return the embrace, “it’s okay now, Simon. We have all of the time in the world.” He nods as tears start falling on your white clothes. You pull away as you chuckle. You wipe his tears away, “come. I’ll show you around. You’ll love it here, I promise. It’s so peaceful here.” You hold your hand out to him. He lets out a little laugh but nods and takes your hand in his, “okay. Show me, lovie.”

#cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty

242 notes · View notes

malice-ov-mercy · 3 months

Text

Your Scent is Still Here in My Place of Recovery

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Content Warnings: 18+!, alcohol addiction, implied relapses, angst, mention of vomiting /very brief description of vomit,

A/N: sat on this for a while deciding if I was done with it or if I wanted to post it at all. don’t completely hate it, so I suppose I’ll let it see the light of day. took inspiration from a prompt and a lyric from Milk It by Nirvana. Prompt and prompt list can be found here

Prompt:

“I want to help you through this, I really do, just not as your girlfriend.”

Word count: 2.2k

Tag List: @circle-with-me @xxrainstorm @foliosriot @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @concretenoah @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @an-insane-day @lyschko666 @calisto-thoughts @emzandthevoid @shroomfairy24 @cncohshit @dominuslunae

If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Lorna Shore!

Noah Masterlist

Once again, you were holding Noah’s hair back while he vomited the entirety of his stomach into the toilet. Wretching and dry heaving bounced off the walls of the small bathroom. Another late night and broken promise flushed down the drain. Your heart ached seeing him so ill and carelessly destroying himself.

Helplessly, you watched Noah drown. Every life preserver you tossed him only held him above water barely long enough to keep him from death. He struggled to hold his weight and float. It drained you both.

“Fuck…” Noah coughed.

He pushed himself away from the toilet and leaned against the wall, his breathing heavy and staggered. Tears streaked his face. Dark circles lined his sunken eyes. Cold sweat beaded on his brows. Tremors rippled through his weak, sickly pale body.

You stared dejectedly at the stranger inhabiting the shell Noah abandoned. The dark brown eyes that you loved so much were now just voids of emotionless black, absorbing all the life and light that remained of him.

“Noah, I can’t do this anymore.” Surprised by your own words, you stood and tried to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

Noah squinted and blinked repeatedly as if he didn’t hear you.

“Do what?”

“This.” You gestured between you and him. “Us.”

“What?” Confusion and hurt creased his expression.

“I want to help you through this, I really do,” A knot formed in your throat. “Just not as your partner.”

Heavy silence sucked all the air out of the room, suffocating you both. The dull buzz of the bathroom light grated against your ears. Noah stared blankly at you, vacant and emotionless.

“You’re breaking up with me?” He said flatly.

Noah grabbed the toilet and heaved once more, expelling more of his stomach. You grimaced seeing the color, hoping the red tinge was just from the color of the copious amount of alcohol and food.

“You’ve broken one too many promises, Noah. I’ve been as patient and understanding as I possibly can.”

“So you’re just going to abandon me? Leave me here to deal with this by myself?” He peered up at you through tear stained lashes.

It hurt to see him so broken and frail. You wished you could snap your fingers and fix him, put all his discarded pieces back together and get your Noah back—but you couldn’t. He needed more help than you were capable of giving.

“I’ve tried, but you’re shutting me out and letting me down at every turn. This isn’t fair to me.”

“Not fair to you? You’re not the sick one here! It’s me!” Noah raised his voice, causing you to flinch. “You’re supposed to be helping me, giving me support! Not abandoning me in my time of need!”

“I love you, but I have to love you from a distance. I’m sorry.”

Noah scoffed. “No you aren’t and no you don’t.”

His harsh words pierced your heart.

“Get out.”

“Noah—“

“GET. OOOUUTTTT!!!” He shouted with such force, his body shook.

You hurried out of the bathroom and gently closed the door behind you. A gut wrenching, agony filled scream chilled you to the bone and your heart began to crumble. The pieces wanted to rush back to him, cradle his cold body close and apologize profusely and take everything back. But your mind held you in place, torturing you by listening to Noah wail as he lost the last sliver of his sanity.

The walls of your shared bedroom didn’t feel like home anymore. Pictures of happier memories mocked you. Little did the people in those photos know their shining smiles and bright eyes full of once unconditional love would come to a screeching halt, blindsided by a crippling disease.

A cacophony of noise in the bathroom startled you. Noah was destroying it. Your heart shattered along with the mirror. You did all you could, but in the end, it proved fruitless. Watching Noah wither away killed you.

Tears in your eyes, you reached for your phone and texted Nicholas. It wasn’t your fault, but guilt still ate away at you.

The storm raging outside did little to quell Noah’s mind. He’d been here for less than two weeks and he felt sicker than ever. Withdrawals were wreaking havoc. A permanent stomach ache constantly plagued him; his body couldn’t decide if it wanted to be as hot as the fiery pits of Hell or colder than the ice age. His chest ached in ways he didn’t know was humanly possible.

Lightning flashed outside followed by earth shattering thunder. He watched the rain pelt the window, praying it would break through and flood his room, washing him away. His world felt so minuscule and meaningless. Another barrage of thunder and lightning lit the sky and shook the walls. The white noise of the air conditioning that Noah sought solace in kicked off, as did the lights outside.

Grumbling, he crawled out of bed. His joints protested with every step, body bogged down by sleep deprivation. Leaves and other debris whizzed past his window. The storm reminded him of home, but nowhere near as rowdy as the summer storms he was used to.

Home. Noah didn’t know where home was anymore. It certainly wasn’t this facility and nothing waited for him in Virginia. All that remained in his house was hurt and temptation.

Here, he had a fresh start, a promise of sobriety if he cared enough to try.

The generator to the building buzzed to life, slicing the nostalgic silence surrounding Noah. A shiver crept up his spine as the cool air tickled his exposed back. He tore himself away from the drenched madness out his window and trudged to his dresser. His drawers were mostly bare. Nicholas promised to bring him more of his clothes by the end of the week.

Through the darkness of his room, his eyes landed on an unfamiliar shirt. He squinted at the crumpled fabric and reached for it. As he unfolded the shirt, an overwhelming sense of nausea washed over him. Things he’d rather forget filled his head.

It belonged to you, one of the very few times you left behind when you abandoned him. Noah didn’t remember packing it. He wasn’t sure how didn’t notice it before now either. A whirlwind of emotions surged through him. Regret. Anger. Hatred. Sadness. Sympathy. Shame.

Noah couldn’t recall the last time you crossed his mind or how long it’s been since he saw you. His days blurred together at some point. He knew how long he’d been confined here though and how long he would be stuck here.

He brought the shirt to his nose and inhaled. His heart ached.

Somehow it still smelled like you.

“Coffee for Noah!”

Noah glanced up from his phone and turned his head towards the counter. The barista smiled brightly at him, his coffee in her hand. He returned the gesture, pocketing his phone and walking to the counter.

“You coming to the meeting tonight?” She asked, handing him his drink.

“Can’t.” Noah dug around in his pocket for loose bills. “I have prior obligations.”

The barista frowned. “Boo. Now how am I supposed to enjoy my evening?”

Noah chuckled lightly. He shoved a handful of loose change in the tip jar, not caring about the size of the bills.

“Take your girlfriend. I’m sure she’d love to be bored to death.”

“Actually, she’s my fiancé now.” She said proudly, holding out her hand and displaying her ring.

A pang stabbed his chest for some reason. He hadn’t felt that in a long while—or thought about it. Despite his sudden mood shift, Noah congratulated her and promised to make the next meeting.

As he made his way to the exit, a curious and familiar head of hair got caught in his periphery. Noah’s brows furrowed as he studied the color of their hair. His heart rate picked up. There was no possible way it was the same. It couldn’t be. A voice deep in the recesses of his mind told him to approach them. His legs started moving in their direction before he had time to think about it. The closer he got, the more his heart resonated with the color.

A scent he long ago forgot permeated his nose, seeping into him and filling in pieces he didn’t know were empty.

“Uh, excuse me,” Noah said.

The person looked up from their laptop. Their expression was that of someone who saw a ghost.

“Noah…”

He smiled softly. His name always sounded divine in your voice.

“Hi.”

A grape vine told him that you left home sometime after his first rehab visit. He didn’t expect to see you in California, let alone in Los Angeles or in his favorite coffee shop. Your hair was shorter than he remembered. Maybe you cut it. But you looked just as radiant as ever. He was happy to see life back in your eyes instead of the dullness he caused.

You stared at him, a mix of surprise and panic blending in your stomach. His long locks were long gone. The short locks were tied in a bun. A few rebellious wavy strands escaped, falling softly just at his temples.

“You cut your hair,” was all you could say.

Noah chuckled, the sound light and airy.

“Yeah. I got tired of washing it.” The smile he gave you made your heart flutter.

“It looks good. I mean, what I can see of it anyway. So do you. You look… healthy.” You fumble over your words.

His expression softened. “Thank you. I am.”

Silence invaded the lull in conversation. You stared at each other, not sure how to proceed.

Something weighed heavily in Noah’s mind. He was crunched for time, but he couldn’t leave, not now. Not with you right in front of him.

As if you read his mind, you gestured to the seat in front of you. “Do you want to sit?”

You closed your laptop as Noah sat across from you and set his drink on the table.

“How have you been?” Noah asked, linking his fingers together and leaning forward.

The late morning sun cast a soft glow behind him. He looked infinitely better than how you left him. Intense and dark purple circles no longer bruised his eyes. Color returned to his skin, and the dreadful darkness in his irises was gone. California had been so kind to him.

“(Y/N)?”

His gentle call of your name snapped you out of your daydream.

“Sorry.” You laughed, slightly embarrassed. “Uh, I’ve been good. Busy with work and other life things. How about you?”

Noah puffed his cheeks. “It’s been a rollercoaster, honestly. But despite everything, I’m doing well. I’ve done a lot of growing. Lots of therapy on top of finally getting sober.”

Resting your chin in your hand, you smiled softly at him. “That’s wonderful, Noah. I'm proud of you.”

His cheeks flushed. He grabbed his coffee to try and hide behind it.

Silence once again filled the space between you. You looked past Noah to the busy afternoon bustle outside. People hurried along to their jobs or appointments, friends and couples laughed joyously with each other. Businessmen buried their noses in their phones. You wondered about their lives, if they were as tumultuous as yours and Noah’s had once been.

You could feel Noah staring at you, burning into the side of your face. He kept his gaze fixed on you as you gave your attention back to him. There was more lurking in his dark eyes, but you couldn’t decipher what. Whatever it was was eating away at him, that much you knew. Even after all the time you’ve been apart, you still read him like a book, one you memorized every word of.

“What’s wrong, Noah?” You furrowed your brows.

Noah rapped his fingers on his cup then sighed. Setting it down, he reached across the table and silently asked for your hand. You placed yours gently in his. He fixed his eyes on your joined hands, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles.

“I’m sorry.” Remorse and sorrow saturated his voice.

“Noah—“

“No, let me finish.”

Noah scooted further up his seat. His other hand clasped your intertwined hands.

“I put you through hell and I’m immensely regretful for everything. You didn’t deserve any of it. Especially that night. I was so far away from who you first met and I couldn’t see that then.”

Tears welled in your eyes. Noah squeezed your hands.

“Part of my recovery has been recognizing and apologizing for all the hurt and pain I caused everyone. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’ve learned that’s something I have to earn, but I just need you to know that I am sorry. For everything.”

You stare at your hands. His ink covered, shaky hands were warm, a stark contrast to the ice you remembered. You didn’t doubt the sincerity or genuineness of his words, but the shake of his hands poked at the unpleasant memories.

“Thank you.” You whispered. “I appreciate the apology. I-I’m sorry for leaving you at your lowest.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, (Y/N). Leaving was the best thing you did for both of us. I would have dragged you down with me.”

His words broke the dam in your eyes. Noah stood and hurried to your side, crouching down and tightly grasped your hand. His free hand brushed away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’ve spent years thinking of how I could possibly make it up to you,” Noah stared deeply in your eyes, his thumb gently stroking the apple of your cheek, “if you’ll let me, I’d love to make up for lost time.”

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic

128 notes · View notes